The Slayer's Hunter
by Robyn the Snowshoe Hare
Summary: Seventeen years in the future, Buffy's son must face the truth of his heritage (Important Safety Tip! Story was written in 1998, in the middle of Season Two! Expect plot contrivences and bad writing!)
1. In The Beginning

  
"Xander, are you sure you want to do this?"   
  
"Buffy, you are my dearest friend in the world. For you, yes, I will do this."   
  
"Xander! Think! Yes, I am your friend, and you are mine. But it can never be anything more. Are you sure? Will you give up your entire future for me?"  
  
"Once I wanted you to be more than just my friend, and I won't lie. I still hope that someday we could be like that. But I'll be patient. Even if we never reach that point, being this close will be enough for me."   
  
Buffy looked carefully into Xander's dark eyes. The hardest part of al of this was, she knew he meant every word he said. And it tore her apart that she couldn't give him her heart in return, when she so obviously had his. But you can't give what you've already given away. Angel had her heart. Wherever he was now. Slowly, she nodded. That was enough for Xander. He gave her a smile of pure joy, which tore at her soul. He knelt, and, taking her hands in his own, he said those fateful words:   
  
"Buffy Summers, will you marry me?"   
  
She managed a nod, unable to speak, as sudden tears choked her voice. She'd dreamed those same words for a long time, but from a very different man. Xander didn't understand, but as always, he did all he could to comfort her, and take her mind off of that subject.   
  
"We need to plan the wedding fast. There are enough rumors already, and there'll be even more, but let's at least head off as many as we can."   
  
She nodded again, and they both looked down at their joined hands. Which rested on her stomach, where for the first time, she had felt her child kick.   
  
  
*****  
The wedding was fast. And small. And short. But the only people who really mattered were there. Buffy's mother had been killed the year after their graduation from Sunnydale High. Xander's father had run off, and his mother had condemned the marriage to the point where she refused to even come to the wedding. And so, Buffy was walked down the aisle by her Watcher. Oz was the best man. His fiance Willow was the maid of honor, and the recently engaged Cordelia was one of the bridesmaids. The pews of the tiny church were modestly filled with several of their old friends from high school, and some other friends made at Sunnydale Community College.   
  
Of all the 'dearly beloved' gathered there on that bright day, only six knew the real reason behind the wedding. Five months later, the whole town knew the reason. They all jumped to the perfectly obvious conclusion. Xander Harris had gone and gotten Buffy Summers pregnant. That was the reason behind a marriage that while friendly, comfortable, and open, was loveless.   
  
But they were wrong.   
  
Yes, the marriage was friendly, comfortable, and open.   
  
The marriage was loveless only in a sense. For Xander and Buffy loved each other only as the best of friends do. But, true. It did not contain those....other areas of love.   
  
But they *were* wrong in one major factor.   
  
Xander Harris was not the father of the baby.   
  
Angelus was.   
  



	2. And A Little Child Shall Lead Them

  
"Xander, are you sure you want to do this?"   
  
"Buffy, you are my dearest friend in the world. For you, yes, I will do this."   
  
"Xander! Think! Yes, I am your friend, and you are mine. But it can never be anything more. Are you sure? Will you give up your entire future for me?"  
  
"Once I wanted you to be more than just my friend, and I won't lie. I still hope that someday we could be like that. But I'll be patient. Even if we never reach that point, being this close will be enough for me."   
  
Buffy looked carefully into Xander's dark eyes. The hardest part of al of this was, she knew he meant every word he said. And it tore her apart that she couldn't give him her heart in return, when she so obviously had his. But you can't give what you've already given away. Angel had her heart. Wherever he was now. Slowly, she nodded. That was enough for Xander. He gave her a smile of pure joy, which tore at her soul. He knelt, and, taking her hands in his own, he said those fateful words:   
  
"Buffy Summers, will you marry me?"   
  
She managed a nod, unable to speak, as sudden tears choked her voice. She'd dreamed those same words for a long time, but from a very different man. Xander didn't understand, but as always, he did all he could to comfort her, and take her mind off of that subject.   
  
"We need to plan the wedding fast. There are enough rumors already, and there'll be even more, but let's at least head off as many as we can."   
  
She nodded again, and they both looked down at their joined hands. Which rested on her stomach, where for the first time, she had felt her child kick.   
  
  
*****  
The wedding was fast. And small. And short. But the only people who really mattered were there. Buffy's mother had been killed the year after their graduation from Sunnydale High. Xander's father had run off, and his mother had condemned the marriage to the point where she refused to even come to the wedding. And so, Buffy was walked down the aisle by her Watcher. Oz was the best man. His fiance Willow was the maid of honor, and the recently engaged Cordelia was one of the bridesmaids. The pews of the tiny church were modestly filled with several of their old friends from high school, and some other friends made at Sunnydale Community College.   
  
Of all the 'dearly beloved' gathered there on that bright day, only six knew the real reason behind the wedding. Five months later, the whole town knew the reason. They all jumped to the perfectly obvious conclusion. Xander Harris had gone and gotten Buffy Summers pregnant. That was the reason behind a marriage that while friendly, comfortable, and open, was loveless.   
  
But they were wrong.   
  
Yes, the marriage was friendly, comfortable, and open.   
  
The marriage was loveless only in a sense. For Xander and Buffy loved each other only as the best of friends do. But, true. It did not contain those....other areas of love.   
  
But they *were* wrong in one major factor.   
  
Xander Harris was not the father of the baby.   
  
Angelus was.   
  



	3. If I Should Die Before I Wake

Author's Note: Please remember, this was written in 1998, back in the days when no one was sure what Oz's real name was.   
  
*****  
  
Everyone had come over, and the birthday party had run long, as everyone was having too much fun to notice the time. Hunter was curled up on the couch, nestled between his mother and Grandpa Giles, when he heard his father announce that it was dusk. The happiness of the day dissolved in a moment at these dreaded words. The first rule that Hunter had ever been taught had been was to come inside before darkness fell. It was the same with Jesse, Jenny, and Trevor. None of them had ever stayed out alone after twilight. And they were only allowed outside at night when there were at least two adults in attendance, and they were never allowed to walk even a few steps beyond their parents' watchful eyes. But now it was dusk, and everyone was still at his house, and they had to go home. The adults talked very quietly, and very quickly. Hunter could feel their worry, as if it were a living thing that he watched take form and substance. He wondered why they were so worried tonight, after all, this had happened before.  
  
When they had friends over after dark they would just walk quickly home. But they seemed extra worried tonight. Hunter had noticed that his parents always seemed extra worried about the coming of night around special days, like his parents' anniversary, or his mother's birthday, or Christmas, or Valentine's Day. But they were always very, very, careful around his birthday. He wondered why, at the time, but he was sleepy after the long day, and he let the thought drift away.   
  
It was decided that Jesse would sleep over with him, and Uncle Oz would pick him up tomorrow morning before work. Luckily, Aunt Cordelia had had to leave early with Trevor, at about 5:00. But Jenny had an important doctor's appointment early tomorrow, and was also getting fussy, and wanted to go home. So Aunt Willow and Uncle Oz got ready to go. Hunter's mother and father decided to walk with them, just to see that they got home safely, and his mother volunteered to carry Jenny if Aunt Willow got tired. Then Hunter's mother gave him a hug and a kiss.   
  
"Happy Birthday, sweetie." she said. Then, a strange look passed over her face, and she seemed to try and shake something off. Still with a shadow in her eyes, she said: "Be a good boy, and don't take your cross off, we don't want to lose it." Those were the last words she ever said to him, and they were odd ones, for he never *had* taken his cross off. He was very young, but for years he would have nightmares about that moment, when his mother got up to leave. He watched as his father helped her into her coat. In his mind's eye, he could still see the loving look they exchanged. Her shoulder length blonde hair shimmered in the dim light, and her green eyes sparkled as she waved to him.   
  
In his nightmares, he would always scream for her not to go. But it never did any good, she left, as she always left, with her special bounce in her walk, and his father's arm around her waist. And then the door clicked shut behind her.   
  
Jesse had already fallen asleep, so Grandpa Giles carried him up to Hunter's bed, which the two boys would share. He returned for him, but Hunter begged him for a story. Giles gave in, unable to refuse the boy's simple request when he sat there in fuzzy yellow feety pajamas, with his pleading eyes - so like his mother's - staring up at him. Giles seated himself back on the couch, and Hunter cuddled up to him, and his brown hair - in desperate need of a haircut - caught the static from Giles' tweed vest and began to frizz. He told Hunter stories that were fantastic and amazing, but always ended happily, with the hero winning and the monster being defeated.   
  
About twenty minutes passed in this pleasant manner, and then the stillness of the evening was torn when the door slammed open, and Aunt Willow stumbled in, bleeding profusely from a gash on her forehead, half supported by her husband, who carried the body of their daughter. Six-year-old Jenny Seneca's neck had been snapped, like that of her namesake, Jenny Calendar, dead for eleven years. Later, the police were amazed that Oz Seneca had been able to support his wife and carry his child's body, because his arm had been snapped in three places.   
  
Hunter's father came in behind them. His hands were covered in slashes, and his shoulder was bleeding profusely from a shallow knife wound. His face was a mask of agony, but not because of his wounds. Xander Harris didn't even know about them. In his arms lay his beloved wife, blood streaking her face and arms from numerous cuts. But Hunter didn't see those then. What he saw was where his mother's throat had been ripped open. It was years later that Hunter ever wondered why there had been so little blood at that massive wound. He blamed it on the memory of a child, even though he knew that the memory was crystal clear. All Hunter could do was kneel by his mother's body, and sob. Just as his father was doing.   
  
Hunter never shed a tear after that awful night. As he stood between his father and Giles, watching as his mother's coffin was lowered into the ground, he made a promise. To his mother, the person he loved the most in the whole world. He promised that he would avenge her. That he would do the last thing his mother ever told him. He never took his cross off again.   
  



	4. Sins Returned Times Three

The Bronze was full that night, as it was a Friday and the movie theater was closed for repairs. Seventeen-year-old Hunter Summers-Harris sat at a table with his friend Jesse Seneca. The two were waiting for Trevor, who would complete their group. The three boys had been friends since they were in diapers, and were alternately called the Three Tenors or the Three Musketeers by various exasperated teachers. Hunter spotted their friends as he came weaving through the crowd while balancing three drinks.   
  
Everyone in town agreed that Trevor looked exactly like his father. This knowledge came from the occational Mr. Mannix sightings made between his many business trips. But it was obvious from even these brief glimpses that that was where Trevor got his dark green eyes, dirty blond hair, and the build that had won him a spot as a quarterback for the Sunnydale Razorbacks.  
  
Trevor passed the drinks around, and somehow Jesse managed to spill his the moment he touched it. Automatically, Trevor handed him a wad of napkins, brought for that purpose. Jesse's knack of spilling any liquid that he was handed was legendary, and by the time he was ten everyone had given up on trying to keep his drink in its container, and had resorted to carrying lots of napkins - or in his father's case, a sponge - in preparation for the inevitable. Everyone, that is, except his mother. Willow Seneca watched her firstborn with hawk eyes whenever any liquid was handed to him. And always gave a little sigh of dissapointment when the liquid ended up on the floor. His father, though, took it in stride.   
  
"He had to inherit one bad trait from each of us," Oz Seneca always said, "be glad that all he got from me was bad luck with water." Mrs. Seneca always acknowledged her husband's point, but continued her crusade to reform her son. When discussing this statement, none of the boys could ever really understand it. In their eyes, Jesse had inherited his parents' only bad traits. His mother's fear of frogs, and his father's water luck. He had also gotten an extra helping of their combined intelligence, some of his mother's shyness, and his father's dark hair and build. Sadly, the last part meant he was doomed forever to be short and wiry.   
  
While both Trevor and Jesse were constantly told about how much they resembled their fathers, Hunter was never subjected to that statement. He didn't look a thing like his father, though he was just as tall. His hair was a much lighter brown, though still a mahogany color, and tended to either spike or hang in his green eyes. From the way girls reacted to him, he gathered that he was quite a bit handsomer than the norm, but all adults tended to comment on was how much he reminded them of his mother. He personally couldn't see much of a resemblance from the many pictures of her that his father had hung on the walls of their house, or kept in their many photo albums. So when he asked why, the answers were vaguer than he would have liked. The most common ones were: 'you have her eyes', or 'you have her sense of humor'. Once, Jesse's mother had told him: 'you have her spirit'. She had then turned away, blinking quickly to hide tears.   
  
But such thoughts were far from Hunter's mind tonight. The boys commented on the band, and the girls, and chatted about a large history project coming up. Trevor left after his girlfriend showed up, and Jesse had to get home early to watch his little brother, Asher, who had been born a year after his sister Jenny's death, which his parents never spoke of. Hunter stuck around for a while longer, hoping that the pretty girl who sat next to him in English might show, but finally gave up. He was just fishing around in his pocket to check for his keys when he felt an odd prickling sensation at the base of his neck. As if someone was watching him. He spun around, but all he saw was the usual Friday crowd. A few people called out greetings, and he waved, firmly shaking the feeling off. Ignoring the lingering unease, he headed for the door. He failed to see the two men detach themselves from the crowd to follow him.   
  



	5. Honor Thou Thy Father And Mother

Hunter walked out of the Bronze, breathing in the cool night air. It hadn't been until he was almost 15 before his dad had let him stay out after dark alone, and then only he'd taken a full martial arts course, and then spent a few weeks 'training' with a friend of the family, Giles, who was so close that until he was twelve Hunter had called him 'Grandpa' Giles. 'Training', though, had basically meant spending three hours a day after school kicking Giles' British ass. While applying ice to his bruised ribs one day, Hunter had heard Giles muttering, "Just like his mother." But when Hunter had demanded to know what that meant, Giles had denied ever saying it.   
  
Brooding on this, Hunter walked along, until he was knocked to the ground by an extremely solid fist. From his new vantage point, Hunter looked up at his assailant, and froze when he saw two strange guys. With really screwed up faces.   
  
And quite well developed fangs.   
  
While Hunter was absorbing this interesting feature, the first guy pulled him up by his shirt collar, and with one hand locked Hunter's arms behind his back, and with the other hand firmly gripping his hair, forced him to look directly at the other guy.   
  
Hunter blinked as the sharp ridges and even sharper fangs melted into perfectly normal features, marred only by several long scars on his face. The man stepped closer, and the as harsh streetlight fell onto him, some part of Hunter's mind registered that he cast no shadow.   
  
"So," he said, "this is the Slayer's whelp." Turning his face slightly, he directed his words at the guy restraining Hunter, "Spike should be pleased."   
  
At this point, Hunter decided that it was time to go. With that thought firmly in mind, he kicked back sharply into the shins of the man holding him. It didn't free him, but for a moment the man's grip loosened. That was all Hunter needed. He spun around, freeing his arms and head, and used his momentum to add to his backhand, which caught the man full in the face. He followed this up with a vicious roundhouse kick, which knocked the man to the ground.   
  
Sadly, the second guy had no objections to hitting Hunter when his back was turned. He was stronger than he looked, Hunter realized, about the time when his head slammed into the wall, and he was repeatedly kicked as he lay on the sidewalk.   
  
Abruptly, the abuse ceased, and Hunter rolled over to see both men held at bay by yet another guy, who had apparently just been walking by and decided to lend a hand. Muzzily, Hunter wondered at his incredible luck, which seemed to bounce from very bad to very good, alternately cursing him with homicidal male strangers, and blessing him with good Samaritans. Then he passed out.   
  
  
*********************************  
  
  
After the two vamps backed down and left, Angel turned around to check out the boy's injuries. He was out cold, and had several nasty bruises on his face, and his shirt was torn and bloody. Luckily, most of the wounds were superficial. Angel wondered what Spike's men had wanted with the boy, because something told him that they hadn't just been about to make him into a midnight snack. The knowledge that Spike might have an interest in the boy was enough to convince Angel to make sure the boy got home safely. Quickly, he checked the boy's pockets for any identification, and his search produced a battered wallet. Flipping it open, he found the boy's address, and was about to return it to it's proper place when something caught his eye. A picture was carefully tucked into the billfold. Angel pulled it out, and looked at it. A chill ran up his spine. A strangled sob caught in his throat.   
  
The picture was of Buffy. She was standing on the porch of the house that she and Xander had lived in. Xander stood behind her with his arms around her waist, and a small brown-haired boy of about seven knelt at their feet with his arms firmly wrapped around a huge brown dog. All three wore bright smiles, and the dog's tongue lolled out of his mouth. Fearing what he might find, Angel looked for a name in the wallet. He found it, printed on a Sunnydale High ID card. 'Hunter Summers-Harris'. Angel stared down at the boy lying at his feet.   
  
Buffy's son.   
  
His son.   
  



	6. Spare The Rod, Spoil The Child

Angel walked down the silent streets, lugging the deadweight of his son. As he had done a dozen times, he looked down at the boy's face, peaceful in his present state of unconciousness. Looking closely at the boy, Angel could clearly see the stamp of his own features. The boy had his face, his build, his height, and even the lock of hair that was hanging down into the boy's eyes was the same shade of brown as his own. Arriving at the address, Angel looked at the small house with a pain in his heart. His traitorous memory summoned up hundreds of images of this house, remembered from the time when the demon had been in control. Angelus had lurked here often, looking through the windows at Buffy and Xander, watching them, waiting for a chance to hurt Buffy. The memories passed quickly through his mind, as though delighting in the pain they caused him....  
  
....Xander and Buffy, soon after their wedding, trying to put together a baby crib, without much sucess....   
  
....Xander, his hand on Buffy's stomach, his face lighting up in delight after feeling the baby kick....   
  
....A few days after they returned from the hospital. Lying on the floor with the baby, the two exhausted parents had fallen asleep, while their child tried to focus his eyes on his tiny fist....   
  
....Buffy and Xander, holding each other close. Not the hug of people who are just friends, but the hug of two people deeply in love....   
  
Angel shook these memories off with a great effort. But as he stepped onto the porch of the house his mind flew back to the last time he had stood there, the night his soul had been restored. But at such a price....   
  
flashback   
  
....Angel looked at the people gathered on the porch. Giles' face was haggard, and he seemed to have aged ten years in just a few hours. Willow and Oz leaned against each other, gaining strength and comfort from the contact. A large bandage covered Willow's forehead and most of her right eye, and Oz's arm was in a cast. All three watched him with sorrow, pity, and more than a little wariness. But none of them were vindictive by nature, and they clearly saw his grief and self-loathing. For them, he was suffering enough with having to live with the knowledge that he had killed the only person who had loved him, and whom he had loved in return. Angel didn't look at the fourth person on the porch, and he finished his narrative, his voice thick with pain.   
  
"I tore at her throat, making the wound far wider than necessary, enjoying her agony. I drained her blood, gulping it down. Then, when it was coursing through me...it was as if she pushed the demon back, and I was back in control."   
  
A sharp noise of disgust stopped him, and for the first time, he looked over at Xander.   
  
What he saw stunned him. Xander's eyes were empty, lit only by a deep hatred that was directed at Angel. He hadn't changed or showered since the attack, and dried blood covered his hands and arms, his own blood mingled with that of his wife. Tears had left tracks on his face, and in one hand he clutched a piece of bloodstained cloth as though it were a lifeline.   
  
When Xander spoke, it was in a low, hoarse voice, that nevertheless cut straight to the bone, and to the heart.   
  
"You couldn't go around sucking the blood of normal people, could you? You just had to come after everyone and everything near and dear to her, didn't you? Well, I don't know how you can say that you even had a soul after you destroyed the only things in this world that even tied you to humanity in the first place! You broke her heart when you lost your soul, and I say you lost your soul when you killed your son!"   
  
With those words, Xander threw himself forward, holding a stake that he had been concealing in his sleeve. Giles, Oz, and Willow managed to restrain him, but Xander was out of control, desperately trying to reach the killer of his wife and son.   
  
Angel could only back away, his mind filled with images of the small brown-haired child who Buffy had been carrying when he had ambushed her. The child whose neck he had snapped with a quick jerk of his hands, while Buffy could do nothing but watch. And worse yet, the memory of Angelus' joy at that heart-broken expression, and at the crunch of bones.   
  
Horror filled him. He had killed Buffy's son right in front of her.   
  
His son.   
  
Angel turned and fled into the night....   
  
flashback   
  
Angel pulled himself free of recolections of that awful night, and resolutely turned his mind to the problem at hand. But his thoughts mocked him, returning time and again to the questions that had tormented him all along the walk to the Harris residence. Why had Xander lied to him, telling him that Hunter had died at his hand? And what brown-haired child had he killed that night, if it hadn't been Hunter? And yet another question, what had Buffy meant in her choice of name?   
  
Later, he told himself firmly. Gathering his strength, he knocked three times on the door. The sound of the knocks fell upon the door like the three dread notes that represented the hammer-blows of Fate that opened Verdi's opera, 'La Forza del Destino'.   
  
The Forces of Destiny.   
  



	7. Though I Walk Through The Valley Of Shad...

Angel walked down the silent streets, lugging the deadweight of his son. As he had done a dozen times, he looked down at the boy's face, peaceful in his present state of unconciousness. Looking closely at the boy, Angel could clearly see the stamp of his own features. The boy had his face, his build, his height, and even the lock of hair that was hanging down into the boy's eyes was the same shade of brown as his own. Arriving at the address, Angel looked at the small house with a pain in his heart. His traitorous memory summoned up hundreds of images of this house, remembered from the time when the demon had been in control. Angelus had lurked here often, looking through the windows at Buffy and Xander, watching them, waiting for a chance to hurt Buffy. The memories passed quickly through his mind, as though delighting in the pain they caused him....  
  
....Xander and Buffy, soon after their wedding, trying to put together a baby crib, without much sucess....   
  
....Xander, his hand on Buffy's stomach, his face lighting up in delight after feeling the baby kick....   
  
....A few days after they returned from the hospital. Lying on the floor with the baby, the two exhausted parents had fallen asleep, while their child tried to focus his eyes on his tiny fist....   
  
....Buffy and Xander, holding each other close. Not the hug of people who are just friends, but the hug of two people deeply in love....   
  
Angel shook these memories off with a great effort. But as he stepped onto the porch of the house his mind flew back to the last time he had stood there, the night his soul had been restored. But at such a price....   
  
flashback   
  
....Angel looked at the people gathered on the porch. Giles' face was haggard, and he seemed to have aged ten years in just a few hours. Willow and Oz leaned against each other, gaining strength and comfort from the contact. A large bandage covered Willow's forehead and most of her right eye, and Oz's arm was in a cast. All three watched him with sorrow, pity, and more than a little wariness. But none of them were vindictive by nature, and they clearly saw his grief and self-loathing. For them, he was suffering enough with having to live with the knowledge that he had killed the only person who had loved him, and whom he had loved in return. Angel didn't look at the fourth person on the porch, and he finished his narrative, his voice thick with pain.   
  
"I tore at her throat, making the wound far wider than necessary, enjoying her agony. I drained her blood, gulping it down. Then, when it was coursing through me...it was as if she pushed the demon back, and I was back in control."   
  
A sharp noise of disgust stopped him, and for the first time, he looked over at Xander.   
  
What he saw stunned him. Xander's eyes were empty, lit only by a deep hatred that was directed at Angel. He hadn't changed or showered since the attack, and dried blood covered his hands and arms, his own blood mingled with that of his wife. Tears had left tracks on his face, and in one hand he clutched a piece of bloodstained cloth as though it were a lifeline.   
  
When Xander spoke, it was in a low, hoarse voice, that nevertheless cut straight to the bone, and to the heart.   
  
"You couldn't go around sucking the blood of normal people, could you? You just had to come after everyone and everything near and dear to her, didn't you? Well, I don't know how you can say that you even had a soul after you destroyed the only things in this world that even tied you to humanity in the first place! You broke her heart when you lost your soul, and I say you lost your soul when you killed your son!"   
  
With those words, Xander threw himself forward, holding a stake that he had been concealing in his sleeve. Giles, Oz, and Willow managed to restrain him, but Xander was out of control, desperately trying to reach the killer of his wife and son.   
  
Angel could only back away, his mind filled with images of the small brown-haired child who Buffy had been carrying when he had ambushed her. The child whose neck he had snapped with a quick jerk of his hands, while Buffy could do nothing but watch. And worse yet, the memory of Angelus' joy at that heart-broken expression, and at the crunch of bones.   
  
Horror filled him. He had killed Buffy's son right in front of her.   
  
His son.   
  
Angel turned and fled into the night....   
  
flashback   
  
Angel pulled himself free of recolections of that awful night, and resolutely turned his mind to the problem at hand. But his thoughts mocked him, returning time and again to the questions that had tormented him all along the walk to the Harris residence. Why had Xander lied to him, telling him that Hunter had died at his hand? And what brown-haired child had he killed that night, if it hadn't been Hunter? And yet another question, what had Buffy meant in her choice of name?   
  
Later, he told himself firmly. Gathering his strength, he knocked three times on the door. The sound of the knocks fell upon the door like the three dread notes that represented the hammer-blows of Fate that opened Verdi's opera, 'La Forza del Destino'.   
  
The Forces of Destiny.   
  



	8. I Shall Fear No Evil

Angel looked around the room, whose walls were covered with framed photos. Giles was fussing over Hunter, and Xander was getting some ice and bandages. Walking slowly over to a wall, Angel took a closer look at some of the pictures. Photo after photo was of Hunter standing on a winner's podium, getting a medal, or a trophy, or a few times what looked like an academic award. Other pictures were of Xander and Hunter together, fishing, playing frisbee, or playing with a huge fluffy dog.   
  
Regret filled Angel. He knew nothing of this boy. Who his friends were, his favorite things to do, what classes he took. All those years wasted, when he could've at least watched Hunter from afar. He could've stood at the back of the auditorium when he got those awards, or watched from the crowd as Hunter won those competitions. No, instead all he was able to do was to look at pictures of these events.   
  
There were also pictures of Willow and Oz, older now, or of Cordelia, or of Giles. In the center of the wall was one of Hunter and two other boys. All three were wearing Sunnydale High track uniforms, at what looked like a pep rally. One one side of the wall, in a little cluster, were three pictures. All were of Buffy and Xander. The first was a wedding picture, showing Buffy trying not to burst out laughing as she attempted to get a piece of cake in Xander's mouth while he was also choking down laughter.   
  
The second picture had looked like it had been taken several years later. It had been taken in the library, probably after a long night of research. Xander was sitting in a chair with Buffy perched on his lap. Both were fast asleep, with the book they had been reading out of still open in front of them. Both were smiling slightly in their sleep, and Angel felt a wave of jealousy at the sight of Buffy sleeping in Xander's arms.   
  
Angel's heart was tearing inside him, and after looking at the third picture, he turned away from the wall. The third picture had been taken on a beach on a cold day, judging from the way everyone had bundled up in sweatsuits, towels, or whatever had been on hand. Xander and Buffy were leaning against each other, wrapped in one towel. The rest had been used to bundle up their small son, who was not very appreciative of it and was shown in the middle of wiggling out of his little cacoon, much to his parents' exasperation.   
  
Moving away from the wall, Angel's gaze fell on a silver-framed picture that stood on a shelf. It was a group shot in a hospital, probably taken by a doctor. Buffy was lying in a hospital bed, propped up by pillows. A man with dirty-blond hair was sitting in a chair, talking on a celphone in a corner. Cordelia and Willow were standing by the left side of the bed, and Angel noticed that both women were pregnant, though not obviously so. Oz was standing behind Willow with his arms around her waist, while Giles stood opposite him. All were grinning in vast amusement, and the reason was clear. Xander was perched precariously on the side of the bed, with a look of utter terror on his face that was priceless as he clearly prayed to God that he would not drop the small bundle that had been placed in his arms.   
  
Angel put the picture down hurriedly as Xander returned to the room.   
  
Ignoring him completely, Xander crossed to the couch that Hunter lay on, still out cold. He spent several minutes bandaging up his wayward child, and a tense silence fell over the room as the three men focused all of their attention on one brown-haired teen. Finishing, Xander stood and moved towards the kitchen. With a jerk of his head, he indicated that Giles and Angel should follow him.   
  
Closing the door softly behind them, Xander spun in barely repressed rage to Angel.   
  
"All right, dead-boy, what the hell are you doing here?" he snarled.   
  
Still raging, he turned to Giles.   
  
"And just what could have possibly gone through that tweed mass you call a brain, huh? You just invited the MURDERING FREAK that killed my wife into my house!"   
  
A cold look from Giles convinced Xander to close his mouth, but he continued to send glances at Angel that made Giles thankful that he didn't have holy water on hand.   
  
Ignoring Xander's hate-filled glare, Angel quickly filled Giles in about how he had been walking and had seen two of Spike's men attacking Hunter. When he told Giles about what little conversation he had overheard, and his own observations that they were clearly only trying to knock the boy unconcious, Giles became very agitated.   
  
"Dammit," he muttered.   
  
"So G-Man, what have you conveniantly forgotten this time?" Xander snapped. He was in no mood for games.   
  
Seeing this, Giles cleared his throat and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a worn piece of paper that Xander remembered seeing him studying earlier that evening.   
  
"This is a copy of a prophesy that Buffy pulled off a vampire a few months before she...em....well...she gave it to me.   
  
"Go ahead and say it, Giles. You mean before this son of a bitch buchered her don't you!"   
  
"That's quite enough Xander! Right now we need to concentrate on what is happening to your son. Ok?"   
  
"Fine. But you keep your distance, reflect-me-not." Xander said with such hate that Angel had to restrain himself from cringing.   
  
"As I was saying. It took me almost three years to translate, whoever wrote it had no grasp of Latin whatsoever. The way they used conjugations was..," at seeing the glares directed at him by both men, he hurriedly continued. "Anyway, it is a spell that also contains a prophesy. It details how to restore life, and also even greater power, to a vampire who was slain by magic that was cast by both the Slayer and the Watcher working in concert with a witch and several others. That is the restoration part. The prophesy is that only one vampire has, as far as I know, ever been killed that way."   
  
The two men looked at Giles in horror.   
  
Angel spoke the name so softly that it was almost a breath, but the others heard him.   
  
"Drusilla." And the phrasing of the word was filled with a mixture of hatred, fear, and loathing.  
  



	9. Lo, I Saw A Pale Rider

The two vampires cowered before their master. Even though his face showed no emotion, they could feel the intensity of his anger slowly coming to a familiar boiling rage. When this mood came upon him, he destroyed everything and anyone in his path. Sadly, they were now in his path. Such was their terror that they dared not move a muscle as he rose from the metal folding chair that he had been sitting in. As he walked over to them, he casually removed a torch from the wall. The two watched in terror as he sauntered over to them, but their fear of the death that the torch offered paled next to the fear of what their master would do to them if they so much as flinched away. Death was a kind fate in comparison to that.   
  
This was the price of failure.   
  
Spike stepped back from the ashes that now covered his floor. He had ordered the rest of his minions from his presence, and they were probably even now hunting rats in the sewers. In a sudden spat of anger, he slammed his fist down onto a table, exerting such force that the table, though well-constructed of stout English oak, collapsed. Turning in disgust, he flopped down into a chair. He was so close to getting her back, only a few small tasks remained. The words of the ritual still needed to be translated, but the unwitting fools he had should be done with that in a matter of weeks, maybe even days. Getting and keeping the firstborn brats of the Slayer and her friends would be more difficult, but shouldn't prove much of a problem. But that was before two of the stupider of his minions went after one of them before scedule, hoping to curry favor. And now Angel was back on the scene. But even if they did find out about his plan, Spike was confident that there wasn't much they could do about it. The Slayer's friends were older now, not as fit to stop the forces of darkness. And there was no way that they would willingly work with Angel, or even let him within spitting distance of their precious offspring.   
  
Soon, everything would be ready, and then she would be at his side again. And he would make her killers watch their children die, and then he would torture them until they begged for mercy. But he would give no mercy to those who had destroyed her....   
  
flashback   
  
....Spike struggled desperately to get to Dru, to warn her. But Angelus pinned him down, keeping both of them hidden from the eyes of the Slayer and her litle band. By now, the Slayer and her friends had completely surrounded the vampiress. Drusilla didn't even look up, too caught up in her own spell to see the danger. The spell was almost complete, and though Spike had been doing everything he could to make sure it succeded, apparently Angelus had been doing everything he could to make certain it didn't.   
  
Dru was draining power from the Hellmouth itself, and just a little more would make her the most powerful vampire in Sunnydale, and that didn't sit well with Angelus. He'd thought that he could control Dru, and have her use the power to further his own plans, but she had made it quite clear a few weeks ago that she would do whatever Spike told her to, and also that she couldn't care less about Angelus' little game with the Slayer. Angelus had never taken rejection or mockery very well, and he must've killed some of their own sentries, otherwise the Slayer and her little band would never have gotten this far undetected. Angelus had done many low things in the six years since he had returned, but nothing had ever come close to this. He was prepared and willing to just crouch there while his former girlfriend and her little do-gooder friends killed Dru.   
  
They had formed a loose triangle around her, with two people on each point. All held candles while the red-haired woman who was married to the werewolf chanted. His eyes desperately noted the people participating, and their actions, praying to the God he no longer believed in that they would fail. But even if He existed, there was no way that he would answer a prayer from a minion of His enemy.   
  
Maybe He did look down that night from his lofty perch, but if He did then He only furthered the vampire's suffering. At the last moment, Spike realized just what they were doing. They were forming a tripod, rebounding the power that Dru was using back inside of her, while at the same time putting their own force behind it. That way, they could stop the spell without causing it to backfire at the death of its castor, taking Sunnydale with it.   
  
And at the moment he saw it, it was too late. Drusilla began to scream, and exploded in a huge cloud of black dust. Spike struggled desperately to lunge forward, but Angelus kept him pinned. He snarled in hatred at his sire, his dark heart welcoming the anger and desire for utter vengence that was planted there.   
  
Later, after the killers had left and Angelus had gone out, Spike gathered the ashes of his dark love. And he swore by every oath that he had ever heard, by the Devil whom he knew existed, by the God that he didn't believe did, by the mother who had wept for joy when her son returned home, and then screamed when he murdered his whole family, by the hatred he held for his sire Angelus, by the joy he took in a kill, and by the love he had held for Drusilla, Spike swore that he would do whatever it took to restore her to her reign of darkness.   
  
Whatever it took....   
  
end flashback   
  
Spike shook himself out of his memories, angrily brushing away the tear of blood that had slipped unnoticed down his cheek. He was no good to Dru just sitting here and brooding. Crossing to the other side of the room, he knelt in front of the golden urn that contained her ashes.   
  
"Just a little while longer, ducks," he promised, his dark eyes glowing with firm resolve, "Just a little while and I'll have everything I need for the spell. And then you'll be back, and we'll be together forever. I swear it."   
  



	10. To Forgive, Divine

Xander paced back and forth, rapidly growing tired of Giles' long winded explanation. Spell, more damn spells! He was so sick of hearing about spells.   
  
"What does he need for this spell?" Xander asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.   
  
Oblivious to the building tension in the room, Giles prattled on in that matter-of-fact manner that usually drove Xander crazy.   
  
"The spell calls for the firstborn sons of all those who participated in the original casting. Unfortunatly, you all have sons. But as I said, part of the scroll contains a prophesy. It reads, literally, that 'the half-breed hunter shall act as the mother did, and the mother shall return, and the father shall return after his returning. And then they shall all act with the allies of the Slayer, and shall forbid the demon from her coming.' As I said, the meaning is very unclear since it's possible that the text has been corrupted. Also, the grammer is awful and whoever wrote this had no idea of how to properly conjugate verbs."   
  
"The 'half-breed hunter' would refer to Hunter, I suppose." Xander said. "And we can all see that the father has returned. But Buffy can't return, so the prophesy can't be fulfilled." Pausing a moment, he thought over what Giles had said. He directed his next words to Angel, and his voice had a bitter, mocking tone.   
  
"The part that says that he'll act as the mother is pretty clear, though. And even though I hate the idea of Hunter following in his mother's footsteps, I can't help but hope that one day he'll have a stake with your name all over it."   
  
Angel looked at him in horror. "I'm his father for God's sake!"   
  
"You may have that title, loosely I might add, because you did the deed with Buffy, but that doesn't make you any more of a father than any of those freaks on Jerry Springer." Xander's voice was filled with barely repressed anger, and Angel shot out his retort before he even thought about it.   
  
"Are you ever going to forgive me?"   
  
Those words snapped the last of Xander's self-control. His face darkened in rage, and he clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles whitened from the strain. His words came out in a hissing growl.   
  
"I can't believe that you have the nerve to ask that!"   
  
Xander threw himself bodily at Angel, but was held back by Giles, as Angel stumbled back in amazement and shock. Xander continued his futile attempts to get at him, yelling the whole time in a voice torn with pain.   
  
"You take the best thing that ever happened to me out of my life, and leave me soaked in her blood that YOU spilled, and you want to know when I'll forgive you!?! I'll tell you when, it'll be the day when Oz doesn't need a serious shave after a full moon and Giles becomes a swinging bar-hopper! Hey, I've got a no-brainer for you. The day I hold my wife in my arms again and hear her whisper 'I love you,' that'll be the day I forgive you! But until then, get the hell out of my house and stay the hell away from my son! We'll handle this like we've handled everything that's happened in the last seventeen years, without you!"   
  
Angel turned and stumbled out of the house and into the darkness. His mind was numb, and he had only one thought, to get away from the hatred and accusation that he had seen in Xander's eyes.   
  
  
************************************  
  
  
Kari wondered why she was in a cemetery at almost midnight on a school night when she should've been at home working on her history term paper. She was cold. It was dark and everything, even the smell of the place was creepy. Of course, her reasons for being there were tramping along happily at her left. Her three best friends had been trying to get her out of her house to cheer her up, and since she hated going to the Bronze and the movie theater was closed for repairs, they had come up with the brilliant idea of having a seance. They had spent all of lunch and most of study hall pitching the idea to her, and it was only when Julia threatened to keep pestering her during English that Kari had relented.   
  
Now, she was starting to regret her decision. After all, she was doing fine in English, so what did it matter if her three nutso friends spent the entire period whispering to her, passing her notes, and making fools of themselves? Even if Tobin resorted to charades to get her point across, it wouldn't have been too bad.   
  
Or so Kari told herself. The truth was, she would rather be walking along in the middle of the graveyard in the dead of night with three of the weirdest people in Sunnydale than embarrass herself in front of the hottest guy in school, who just happened to sit next to her in English. Mentally kicking herself for thinking of him again, she was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she didn't notice when Mary started talking to her. She was successfully jarred out of her thoughts when all three stopped and yelled her name as loudly as they could.   
  
After the last echoes of 'Kari Ambrose' had ceased, and her heartrate resumed its usual speed, she hissed at them, "What are you trying to do, scare me to death? You do not yell in a graveyard!"   
  
"We wouldn't have to if you stayed in the same hemisphere as we did. What's up, Kari? You've been like this for weeks now! It isn't like you to just drift out of conversations." Tobin's dark eyes were filled with concern, and her usually sarcastic and cynical voice was soft.   
  
Mary chimed in as she perched herself on a tombstone. "Yeah. Come on, you can tell us anything. We're your friends, buddies, amicas, whatever." As she spoke, Mary tugged at her long red braids, a sure sign that she was agitated.   
  
"I bet I know what's wrong with her." Julia proclaimed, her blue eyes firm with resolve.   
  
"Nothing is wrong with me, I've just been a bit busy, that's all." Kari defended herself as she nervously fiddled with her jacket. Glancing up, she saw three sets of disbelieving eyes.   
  
"I bet it's a guy." Julia continued. Tobin and Mary whipped their heads around so quickly to look at her that it was almost comic, but Kari was too busy blushing and stuttering to deny it. She was then nearly blinded when three flashlights were directed at her face, and chaos basically ensued.   
  
"Julia's actually right? Wow, first time for everything I guess. Quick, someone check to make certain Hell hasn't frozen over!"   
  
"Shut up, Tobin."   
  
"Hey!"   
  
"Cool, I was right! That was just a lucky guess."   
  
"Good grief."   
  
"Come on, spill, who is it?"   
  
"It can't be anyone we know, unless you suddenly have decided to mingle with the world's only living brain-donors."   
  
"Shut up, Tobin."   
  
"It is a guy, right?"   
  
"Shut UP, Tobin."   
  
"Because you can never be sure."   
  
Julia managed to gag Tobin with her jacket, restoring some kind of order to the expedition. Kari found a tombstone to sit on, and everyone eventually settled down on either the grass or handy tombstones. Kari gave in and told them.   
  
"Well, remember when Ms. Sousa died of anemia and they scattered us all into other classes? Well, the first day of the switch I dropped my books walking in and this really nice guy helped me pick them up. And that's about when I fell for him." Ignoring the 'awww's from her captive audience, Kari continued. "Well, I ended up sitting next to him and for the past three weeks - "   
  
"Hold it a second, back up the caboose here while I get one little fact straight," Tobin cut in, "The guy who sits next to you in English? That's Hunter Summers-Harris!"   
  
Mary and Julia's faces fell when they heard that. While Hunter didn't have a girlfriend right now, he had about ten likely candidates hoping to fill that position. Tobin continued her attempt to talk some sense into her friend.   
  
"Kari, the guy is incredibly hot. He is the star of the track team. One of the most popular guys in school. Guys like him cna go out with any girl they want. And let us not forget the wonderful fact that he is friends with such wonderful people as Trevor Mannix. Even if he did like you, he wouldn't risk his social standing and his popular friends to go out with you."   
  
Tobin wrinkled her freckled nose slightly in disgust when she mentioned Trevor. The two had hated each other since nursery school, and on the few occasions that they spoke to each other the hallway had become a verbal battleground. And on one memorable occasion in fourth grade, a physical one. Teachers had managed to seperate the two before any more damage was incurred beyond a bloody nose on Tobin's part and a black eye on Trevor's. If Hunter was one of the most popular guys in school, Trevor was THE most popular guy. Tobin was unpopular and proud of it, with the result being that the two were natural enemies, even without their mutual loathing.   
  
Tobin went on to list the rest of the reasons why Kari should forget about Hunter, and they were all good reasons. Finally nodding her head, Kari resolved to avoid thinking or looking at him. Mary broke the awkward silence that followed by brightly suggesting that they go on with seance idea.   
  
"Who do we want to talk to? Anybody know anyone dead?"   
  
"Eeewww, creepy, Tobin!"   
  
"I know!" Mary grinned and pointed her flashlight from stone to stone.   
  
"Eenie, Meenie, Minie, Mo!   
Catch a ghostie by the toe,   
If it scares you, let it go,   
Eenie, Meenie, Minie, Mo!"   
Mary's flashlight fell on the stone that Julia was using as a seat. Gathering around it, they read the inscription out loud.   
  
  
Buffy Summers-Harris   
28 Years Old   
January 8, 1981 ~ September 8, 2009   
Beloved wife, mother, and friend   
'And We Shall All Be Changed'   
For a moment, the cemetery was almost totally silent. Only the distant rumble of traffic out on the street filtered through the trees and monuments. Finally Tobin broke the silence.   
  
"And me without my camera."  
  



	11. Suffer Unto Me The Little Children

The sound of banging slowly worked its way through the haze surrounding Oz Seneca's mind. At first, he ignored it and buried his face in his sleeping wife's hair, groggily hoping that the noise would go away by itself. But it continued, and he was unwillingly dragged back into full conciousness when his wife sat up, knocking him unceremoniously off of her. Groaning, he covered his eyes in pain when she flicked on the light by their bed. The banging continued, which he now vaguely recognized as coming from someone pounding on the front door.   
  
"Who could it be?" Willow asked softly. He looked over at her, amazed even after seventeen years of marriage that she was his wife. Her long auburn hair cascaded down her back while her intelligent brown eyes regarded him sleepily. She wore an oversized shirt from the college that she taught at as a nightshirt, and was pulling on an old and faded bathrobe that she had bought during their first year of marriage.   
  
In short, she was beautiful.   
  
Shaking himself out of his reverie, he muttered back, "I don't know, but it had better be some kind of national emergency and not some kid begging for a better grade on their term paper." Things like that had actually happened before. They were both teachers, he was a senior physics teacher at the high school while she taught computer science courses at the local community college. In a addition to that, they both occationally did some freelance computer programming work, leaving them comfortable financially.   
  
"You check on the boys while I go see who it is." he knew she would've done that anyway. They had made certain that they were sound asleep when they had come home from the restaurant, but Willow tended to be a bit anxious about them.   
  
Walking down the stairs, he absently noted all the noises that came from them. Every time he walked up or down he made a mental note to fix all the squeaking and creaking, but by the time he reached the bottom or top he had always forgotten. Carefully sidestepping one of his younger son's toys, he made another mental note to have Asher clean up his things tomorrow before either he or Willow gave up and did it themselves. Reaching the door, he peered out the glass for a few seconds, but all he could make out was a tall, dark figure. Frowning slightly in puzzlement, he flipped back the deadbolt and was about to open the door when he was surprised by a low growling coming from the staircase.   
  
Surprised, he looked up to see Willow standing on the landing holding back the dog. She gave him a look of equal astonishment. Scooby never growled or barked at anyone, and at the advanced age of fifteen was usually content to simply sit down and wait for people to pet him. It was an old joke that if anyone ever broke in, the only danger they would be in would be if the dog licked them to death. Fighting down his growing unease, Oz pulled the door open. "Hello?" he called in a wary voice, trying to get a good look at their late-night visitor. The figure hesitated, then stepped into the light that spilled from the doorway.   
  
Oz heard Willow's shocked gasp behind him, echoed by Scooby's manic barking. But that was all distant, numbed by the red haze of rage that had descended over him. Without thinking, he threw himself at Angel, catching the vampire completely by surprise. Tackling him, Oz slammed his fist into Angel's face several satisfying times before he felt Willow behind him, catching his arm and pulling him backwards and off the startled vampire.   
  
Standing back, he put his left arm around Willow even as she put hers around him. With his right hand, he grabbed hold of Scooby's collar, holding the furious dog back as it tryed to crowd past them and get at the thing that was angering his masters. As the vampire rose painfully to his feet, both tightened their arms, offering each other support. And in Willow's case, a warning against further outbursts. Angel looked at them with an almost comic expression of stunned amazement on his handsome face, one hand pressed against his bleeding nose.   
  
"Nice to see you, too." he said sardonically, wincing at the pain from his nose.   
  
  
************************************  
  
  
Trevor drove home slowly, not very anxious to arrive. He'd stayed out late with Nora, and had only driven her home when she had given up hinting and had flat out told him that if he didn't get her home before her curfew then she wouldn't be able to go to the dance on Saturday with him. Actually, he had almost been tempted to purposely get her grounded. Nora was popular, pretty, and a member of the cheerleading squad, but she was what his mom would call a 'sheep'. She did only what everyone else was doing, and he waspretty sure that she was only going out with him for the status of it. Oh, well. The relaitionship was on its way out anyway, and there were several girls (many of Nora's friends among them) who would be more than willing to take her place.   
  
As he pulled into the driveway, he avoided thinking about what his friends' reactions would be to that. Not the guys who just hung around him, but his real friends. Jesse and Hunter. Jesse would shake his head in disgust at it all, while Hunter would make some cracks about how he 'went through girls like tissues'. Sometimes it bothered him, but that was just the way the world worked.   
  
Getting out of the car, he walked into the garage. He was surprised to see his dad's car parked next to his mother's. His father was rarely home, and his visits were always celebrated with an excruciating 'family dinner' where he and his sisters had to dress in their nicest cloths while their dad tried to remember what grades they were in. His mom tried her best to keep things 'normal', but Trevor could never remember a dinner that hadn't ended with Dad yelling at Mom, and himself and the girls being herded upstairs by one of the maids.   
  
Trevor could hear the yelling through the thin door that lead from the door that lead from the garage to the kitchen. He was already turned around, ready to drive off in his car and crash at Hunter's house for the night, when he heard the sound of breaking glass. Spinning, he opened the door and ran inside.   
  
The moment he walked in, everyone froze. His father was standing right next to his mother, who was kneeling, his hand half-raised as if he were about to strike her. The twins, Summer and Regan, were huddled in the doorway that lead to the stairs, their brown eyes huge with terror.   
  
Seeing Trevor, his dad dropped his hand down by his side. Hurrying to his mother's side, he saw that his mother had dropped a glass, and he knelt swiftly to help her clean up the glass shards. As he helped gather up the remains of the glass, he noticed that his mother was carefully keeping her eyes away from his, and was smoothing her long brown hair over the left side of her face. Dreading what he would find, he leaned over to see what she was hiding from him. Anger filled him as he saw the large bruise that was already forming on her cheek. Getting up, he glared daggers at his father, who was acting as if nothing had happened. He longed to do something, anything, but Mark Mannix was a big man, and while Trevor knew that he could probably hold his own in a fight, the only person to really suffer would be his mother. Trevor had stood up once before, and the next day his mother had come downstairs covered with bruises and nursing a sprained wrist.   
  
As soon as his father left the room, the twins started sobbing. His mother hurried over to comfort them while Trevor finished cleaning up the glass. He envied them, things had been much easier when he could just start bawling and wait for his mother to hug him and tell him that it would be alright, that she wasn't hurt, and that their father had just had a bad day and was sorry. But the girls were only nine, Trevor was seventeen and knew better. Things wouldn't be alright, his mother was hurt, and his father wasn't sorry.   
  
Later, when he was lying in the darkness of his room waiting for sleep to claim him, his mother came in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she tenderly smoothed his dirty-blond hair with a gentle hand, and tried to feed him the same excuses. But he just turned his face to the wall and wished that he had the guts to do something about it, or even to tell someone what was going on.   
  
He certainly couldn't trust any of the his dad's friends, or most of his mother's social-climbing back-stabbers, who would merely see this as a juicy piece of gossip. Imagine, Cordelia Mannix, only daughter of the wealthy software king Jeffrey Chase, being beaten by her husband. It would be the scandel of the year.   
  
But several times he had almost told Mr. Giles what was going on, and once he had come very close to telling Mr. Harris. They had all been friends of his mother in high school and college, and continued to be so. They also seemed to know that something was wrong, and always asked after his mother's health with worried expressions. He had once overheard Mrs. Seneca coming staight out and asking his mother if his dad was hurting her, but his mother had just laughed it off and said that she had walked into a door.   
  
He heard his mother sigh as she closed the door softly behind her. Rolling over onto his side, he shut his eyes firmly and concentrated on going to sleep.  



	12. Even Now In Heaven There Were Angels Car...

Kari looked on nervously as Tobin emptied an odd assortment of supplies for the seance out of her backpack. Thirteen black candles, seven white candles, a capped Coke bottle, some Lifesavers, and an old dog-eared book.   
  
"Tobin, maybe we should just go home." she proposed tentatively. She had gone along with some of Tobin's weirdest ideas in the past, including one particularly memorable incident involving togas, Kool-aid, and the front steps of Town Hall, but this idea sent a chill up her spine for some reason. She liked Hunter, and the idea of even pretending to raise his mother's ghost just seemed disrespectful.   
  
"Come on, Kari, we came all the way out here, we might as well raise some spirits." said Julia cheerily as she carefully set the candles up in a circle around the tombstone. Tobin nodded absent mindedly in agreement with the blond girl, paging through the book in search of something.   
  
Kari sent a pleading look at Mary, but the tall redhead was busy blowing her nose. Outnumbered, she submitted with ill-grace, wrinkling her nose when Julia handed her a small bundle of what looked like garlic and sage, which set poor Mary sneezing again.   
  
"Have you gone to a doctor about that cold yet?" Kari asked her, digging around in her pockets in search of Kleenex to give her. Shaking her head, Mary stiffled another coughing fit.   
  
"No, but if I'm not in school tomorrow don't be too surprised. Just get my assignments and give them to me when I come back." Mary croaked through a sore throat.   
  
"Kari and Tobin will have to," answered Julia, handing Mary another wad of tissues, "I have a French paper due tomorrow that I haven't even started, so I'm going to take the day off to work on it."   
  
At that, Kari sighed while Mary threw Julia a reproachful look. Julia had a habit of putting projects off to the absolute last minute, and if she couldn't get them done the night before, or a few times the class before, she made certain that she was absent the day it was due.   
  
"Okay, all ready!" chirped Tobin, holding the book open.   
  
Snuffling loudly, Mary asked, "Where did you get that book, Tobin?"   
  
"I borrowed it from the library." Tobin said, suddenly finding the ground at her feet absolutely fascinating. Her three friends all exchanged glances. Tobin could lie to strangers flat out, or teachers, or her parents, and do it well and convincingly, but she had never been able to tell even the slightest falsehood to her friends. Needless to say, Tobin usually fled the vicinity if one of them asked her opinion on a hair style or an article of clothing.   
  
"Borrowed?" asked Julia, just as Kari said, "What did you do now?", and Mary sneezed suspiciously.   
  
"So the librarian doesn't know that I borrowed it, so what? I'll return it tomorrow." Tobin said defensively.   
  
"When did you snitch it?" asked Mary, stiffling another sneeze.   
  
"Yesterday afternoon, when I had to serve my detention for 'extreme insolence' in the library." Tobin made a disgusted face at the memory. "Stupid fascist relic Snyder," she muttered, "I bet he doesn't even know what insolence means."   
  
"Continuing.." prompted Julia. Once Tobin started griping about something, it took her a while to stop.   
  
Sending a knowing grin at Julia, Tobin continued. "The librarian, Mr. Hiles or whatever his name is, just told me to sit in a corner while he researched something, so I used my hour to get some homework done. Most productive detention I've had in a while."   
  
Kari sent her an exasperated look. "Have you ever considered just keeping your mouth shut from time to time? I'm sure it would save you plenty of detentions."   
  
Tobin laughed. They had had this conversation many times, and her answer was always the same. "But what would be the fun in that? The detention is well worth expressing my opinion." With a glance at Julia, she continued, "Anyway, after about forty minutes, he went to go look for something in the stacks, I assume a book. When my hour was up, he was still gone, and I started to leave. I happened to pass by the table he had been working at and-"   
  
"One of the books just fell into your backpack without you even noticing it?" Kari asked teasingly. "Let me guess, you waited until the moment the librarian left the room, then you bolted over to the table to satisfy your curiosity. Seeing an interesting book, you grabbed it and high-tailed it out of there."   
  
Tobin paused a moment before saying, "That was some guess."   
  
Three exasperated groans echoed throughout the cemetery.   
  
"Let's just get this over with and go home." suggested Mary. Actually, it sounded more like, 'Led's dust geb dis over wid anb go homb.' Clearly her stuffy nose was getting worse. Tobin quickly explained what each was required to do, nothing major, just blowing out five candles each at a certain point and waving their little herb bundles around. Passing out packets of matches, Tobin flipped to the beginning of the ceremony and began chanting.   
  
  
*********************************  
  
  
Sean Mona shivered in the chill of his cell as he huddled beneath the sheets. His head was pounding, his tongue was thick in his mouth, and his fingers shook as he clenched the blankets in his fists. But he was used to the physical discomfort and knew how much he could take. What he could never get used to was the betrayal of everything he was.   
  
Three years ago, Sean had been sitting at a bar, drowning his sorrows in a mug of beer. His girlfriend Andrea had left him to find a guy with a 'real' job. Sean was the first to admit that his job as a professional clairvoyant was a bit off the beaten track, but he made money doing it and he was good at it. Besides, he was an intelligent man with a degree in political science from Yale. Another plus, he was a nice guy.   
  
Andrea's biggest problem was that Sean was the real thing. He wasn't just someone who knew people and made lucky guesses, no, he could look at a person whom he had never met before and 'feel' what they were like and where they were headed in life. He didn't like doing that, though. It felt too much like an invasion of privacy, but there were other aspects of his power that he couldn't control. Looking at a person, he would often see a wispy outline standing behind their right shoulder. If he concentrated, he could make out what that translucent form looked like.   
  
It was the person's past clinging to them, especially people who had influenced them. Sean could see them.   
  
Sometimes, also, he would get a full-blown vision that left him babbling what he had seen in a desperate attempt to keep his sanity. The images would appear to his inner eye, and he would describe them as they occurred, not knowing or caring who might overhear. Afterwards, though, he never spoke of them.   
  
He had met Andrea when he was visiting a friend in the hospital, she had been the attending nurse. And then, after an almost five-year relationship, she had just left him, and he had never seen it coming. Snorting bitterly, he had mused darkly on the fact that people paid him to look into their futures, and he couldn't even see his own. He had barely registered it when a bleached-blond man in a black leather duster had slid onto the stool next to him and ordered a beer. They had both been drinking with the steady intention of passing out, and somewhere along the way they had gotten to talking. The man introduced himself as Spike, and after Sean's seventh beer he told him his profession. They chatted about that for a while, with Spike clearly thinking that he was a complete fraud, and then Sean had done something incredibly stupid, that he would never have done if he had been even half-way sober.   
  
He had looked over Spike's shoulder, and told him what he saw.   
  
As he described the dark-haired woman he saw there, Spike's eyes widened. Immediately Spike had gotten off of the stool, and told Sean that he would give him a ride home. Sean had been too out of it to protest, or even to remember that Spike had no idea where he lived, and had passed out in Spike's car. When he woke up, he was lying in this windowless cell, with its cement walls and single cot, and an incredible hang-over.   
  
Spike had walked in, then, looking unnaturally chipper for someone who had had so much to drink the night before. He had proceeded to tell Sean just how unnatural he was. Sean later had to admit to himself that if he had been sober when he met Spike, he probably would've guessed that there was something very strange about him, but that he never would've figured he was a vampire.   
  
For three years Sean had never left this room, his food and necessities were taken care of by one of Spike's lackeys who was always posted at his door. He soon learned that his whole job was to wait for visions to hit him, and tell them to either Spike or whatever lackey was currently on 'Sean Duty'. He had nearly gone insane with boredom before Spike had started giving him newspapers to read, and sometimes providing him with books. For the first few months, Sean had spent most of his time trying to escape, but after a few demonstrations of what would happen if he tried again, he had settled back to his fate.   
  
For some reason, Spike seemed to like him, or as much as the vampire liked anyone. Some nights when he was bored or in need of company, he would visit Sean and they would both get drunk and talk until the early hours of the morning. Sean hated Spike for taking away his freedom, but the hours of solitude would wear on him until he was desperate for any company, even if it was from his captor. From those talks, Sean had gotten a general understanding of the town his cell was located in. It was called Sunnydale, and it was situated over a mystical convergence called the Hellmouth. It was the presence of the Hellmouth that really affected Sean, since that was what seemed to trigger his visions more often.   
  
Tonight, he was still recovering from a hang-over brought on by another visit from Spike, where they had played poker and gotten drunk. Despite the fact that Sean's position was far from as bad as it could be, he still found himself drinking a great deal to stave of depression. One of his greatest regrets was one of the things that he had hardly noticed or cared about when he was free: the sun. It had been three years since he had seen the sunlight, and he was amazed at how much he missed it. The dark tan that had contrasted so much with his light blond hair and gray eyes had faded, leaving his skin as pale as that of the vampires around him.   
  
He considered suicide as a way to escape, but rejected the idea long ago for three reasons. First, a vampire was always watching him. Second, Spike had promised to turn him into a mindless minion if he even tried to kill himself. And third, he simply loved life too much to try to end it.   
  
Rolling onto his side to reach for a glass of water, Sean stopped when he felt the familiar rushing sensation that always heralded the beginning of a vision. Groaning, he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead as it began. Looking up with his rapidly dimming sight, he saw the vampire on duty place a recorder to catch every word he said before running off to tell Spike.   
  
Clenching his blanket tighter, he watched the vision unfold before him. He could hear the pounding of feet as someone ran in, but by that time he was lost in what he saw. He began to tell what he saw, not even aware that he was speaking aloud.   
  
"A graveyard....night...four girls...young...probably in high school...two have dark hair....one has blond hair...the last has long red braids...they're standing in a circle around a tombstone...holding candles...one is chanting something....a book...the tombstone has a name...a name....Summers....Summers-Harris..."   
  
At that name, Spike's eyes became bright and intense as he gripped the back of the chair he was leaning against. The tension of his grip splintered the back as he watched the thirty-year-old human intently, but he didn't even notice.   
  
"...blue light...she's coming...she's coming back at their call.." Sean trailed off, lying back limply on the bed. Spike turned to his minions, his eyes gleaming with his fervor.   
  
"Go to the graveyard and bring those girls back here. Alive and unharmed." Looking carefully at their faces to make sure that they understood, he barked, "GO!" They went, nearly tripping over each other in their haste, knowing that their unlives depended on rounding up four specific girls based on the vague description given to them by Sean.   
  
Turning back to Sean, Spike was surprised to notice that his light gray eyes had darkened until they were almost black, and he was apparently caught in the throes of a trance. When Sean spoke again, his voice had changed, losing all traces of its light Boston accent. Instead, it was slow and stately, a voice of prophesy.   
  
"For know ye this, when the wolf shall mate with the bitch shall come from them the Hunter. And he will have the strengths of both, for he shall be half of the wolf and half of the bitch. And when he has passed his childhood, then shall both return to guard their pup from the dangers of an enemy from the past. And the Companions shall be there, and so shall the new Companions be there. Look ye well, and guard the Hunter well, for it shall come that he shall stand alone against the Darkness."   
  
Sean's eyes closed, and his head fell back against the pillow, leaving Spike to ponder his words alone.   
  
  
**********************************  
  
  
The radiant figure strode through the vast grey hallways, lit only by an endless twilight. Reaching its destination, the figure became aware of three shadows across the path. Turning eyes outward, instead of inward, the shadows took on form and substance, of the living beings that they had been, three young women, two with dark hair, one with golden. Their faces were troubled.   
  
"Children," said the radiant figure.   
  
The first woman merely murmured her name, hiding her face. She had been here many years, but her ties to the world remained. The second said her name firmly, looking up at the figure quietly. This woman had been here for almost eighteen years, and only one link to the living remained for her. The third woman lifted her face proudly, stating her name with a ring of challenge.   
  
"Buffy Summers." This woman's link to the life she left behind was strong, and manifold. It was on her behalf that the figure had come.   
  
"What may I do for you, Buffy?" the radiant figure asked, looking closer at the petite blond. She wore in death the clothing she had worn in life, dark pants and shirt, a leather jacket, and a silver cross around her neck. Her wide green eyes radiated both respect and defiance at the same time.   
  
"I am being called." she said simply, but with a multitude of emotions mixed up in that single statement, hope and fear among them.   
  
"Children at play." the figure explained gently. "But why would you go? You left the world behind eight years ago."   
  
"My child is in danger. My loved ones are in danger. Their children are in danger. How could you ask me to abandon them? Especially now...." she said softly.   
  
"You will see them - through the eyes of God. Submit yourself to His will, and trust in His wisdom."   
  
Buffy shook her head slowly.   
  
The radiant figure was stern. "Would you tamper with their freedom of choice? With their free will?"   
  
"Why not?" she asked bitterly. "You're doing it! Throughout my life I was controlled by you, and now you seek to draw in my son!"   
  
"No," the figure said gently, "you were made the Slayer, but all choices were your own. Your son will make his own choices, and those with him will help him. Trust that he will make the right choices."   
  
Mutely, Buffy again shook her head.   
  
"You defy us then." The figure did not make this statement in anger, but in sorrow.   
  
"I will do what I think is best. That is my free choice."   
  
"This is true. We may not stop you. But know this, Slayer. If once you leave our presence, the Mind of God will be closed to you. You will not see with our clarity. And if you cross over into the physical dimension, if you attempt to physically alter or change that which was meant to be, you will be damned. You will not be permitted to return here, except by a path that is long and difficult and filled with pain. Many are those who have perished on it, to live in dreadful torment and agony, bereft of all hope of comfort, peace, and redemption. That is the fate you face. And you face it alone."   
  
The path opened up at her feet. Buffy looked down at it, and her soul shrank back at the sight. But she thought again of her son, and drew herself up to look at the figure unflinchingly.   
  
"It is your choice," admonished the radiant figure. "But beware that if you tamper with what you do not understand, you may do irreparable damage. And if you do, you will be punished."   
  
She thought long moments. Then "So be it," she said, and left, leaving the two dark haired women to stand silently by the figure.   
  
  
**********************************  
  
  
Kari shoved her hands into her pockets and tried to huddle further into her worn jacket as the temperature in the graveyard seemed to plummet. Julia and Mary were echoing her movements, despite the fact that not even ten minutes ago the night had felt comfortably warm. Tobin's voice was calm and measured as she read the foreign words of the spell, and at some points during the reading her expressive voice took on an almost sarcastic lilt. Watching her friend's obvious amusement at their reactions, Kari made a mental note to get back at her later. She watched as the candle flames began to spark higher and higher until they seemed almost to leap off of the candle wicks themselves, and then abruptly extinguished themselves as Tobin slammed the cover of the book shut with a sharp smacking sound that made Mary jump.   
  
"All done!" she said cheerfully, ignoring the expressions on her friends faces as she began to gather up her supplies, stuffing them carelessly into her backpack. Kari opened her mouth to comment, but her words died on her tongue as she saw a soft blue glow at the center of their circle. From the strangled sounds coming from the others, she knew that they also saw it as it grew in intensity until she had to squint, holding up a hand to partially shield her eyes. For an instant, Kari almost thought that she could see the figure of a woman, but as suddenly as the light had appeared, it was gone, leaving the girls blinking and trying to readjust their eyes to the darkness of the cemetery.   
  
"Ooh, group hallucination." Tobin said, to all appearances unimpressed by their close encounter of the second kind. But despite her devil-may-care attitude, Tobin was just as eager as the others to leave the graveyard, and the pace Julia set was just a few strides short of a sprint. While Julia was an excellent runner, even the slowest of the girls were no more than a few steps behind her when they exited the south gate of the cemetery.   
  
Gasping hard, they all spent a moment of simply leaning against Tobin's car, getting their breath back. By unspoken agreement, no one mentioned the light, or even what they had been doing there in the first place. Julia was the first to recover, and with a quick wave to the others began to walk in the direction of her house.   
  
"Wait," called Tobin, "my car is right here, I could give you a lift home." With a grin, the dark haired girl spun her keys around in her hand.   
  
With a guarded expression on her face, Julia turned back. "No offense," she said, "but I'll get home faster if I start walking now, and I'll also have the added bonus of getting there in one piece."   
  
Wrinkling her nose at her, Tobin turned to the others. "Well, I guess it's just the three of us then."   
  
"Actually," Mary said, "I'm with Julia on this one. See you later." Walking quickly to catch up with the other member of their foursome, the red-head left them.   
  
Tobin gave a martyred sigh, and turned to Kari with a raised eyebrow. Kari looked at her friend hopelessly.   
  
"Did you fix it this time?" she asked Tobin.   
  
"Of course!" Tobin responded, looking rather hurt at her friend's lack of faith.   
  
"Just get me home alive, that's all I ask." Kari said, opening the passenger side door.   
  
Tobin laughed lightly as she perched herself in the driver's seat. "Don't you trust me?"   
  
"Of course." Kari said quickly. "It's the car that worries me."   
  
And that was true. Tobin's car was an '88 Jeep that had seen better days when her father had been a teenager. It had the disconcerting habit of overheating at inconvenient times, to the point where Tobin kept a bucket of water and a jug of antifreeze in the back seat to cool it down with. The car had once had a paint job of a strong steel-gray, but it had faded over the years to the point where it was white in places. The Jeep always spent every weekend in Tobin's driveway being tinkered on by any one of her five brothers and their numerous friends, and it was a point of fact that the battery was held together by solid rust. Tobin was one of the few people who owned a standard shift car these days, and she sometimes had to scour antique car shows for spare parts. The past three days had been punctuated with rather spectacular Jeep breakdowns, which had left everyone but Kari and Tobin terrified to be within ten feet of it, much less inside it. On the bright side, Tobin had been quick to point out, that meant that Kari always got to ride shotgun.   
  
Climbing in, Kari lowered herself carefully into the seat, sweeping aside old McDonolds containers to make room for herself.  
  
  
*********************************  
  
  
"What do you want?" Oz asked coldly.   
  
"I need some answers." Angel said, getting a strong sense of deja vu as he found himself standing on a front stoop like an unwanted stray for the second time that evening.   
  
"Well, that's a shame. Have a nice afterlife." Oz began to close the door, but was stopped when Willow squeezed his hand.   
  
"Answers about what?" she asked, swallowing the terror that had gripped her from the moment she had seen Angel's darkly handsome face.   
  
"A lot of things, but mostly about the boy." Angel replied, noting Willow's loss of color at his words, and how Oz's expression became even colder. "Interesting that he is alive, after all, I was told that he was dead."   
  
"Why don't you do us all a favor and take a walk in the sunlight?" Oz said harshly. "Haven't you done enough to that boy? The best thing you could do for him would be to never let him even suspect that you exist." For the second time, Oz began to close the door, and this time Willow made no move to stop him.   
  
"Maybe, maybe not." Angel interrupted. "But I'm not the only one who knows about him. Somehow Spike knows, and apparently he wants the boy for a ritual of resuscitation."   
  
Willow's eyes widened in fear and understanding. "The prophesy..." she murmered softly, but Angel's vampiric hearing caught the words easily.   
  
"So you know about it? I thought Giles was the only one. Xander was pretty surprised to learn that it even existed."   
  
"I helped him translate it, and told Oz about it." Willow spoke reluctantly. The prophesy had haunted her nightmares for years, but as the children had grown older her fear had lessened as the events of the past grew even more distant. Her thoughts snapped back to the present, and her voice took on a cutting note as she remembered that the cause of so much of their pain was standing in front of her.  
  
"Xander was dealing with enough at the time, we didn't want him to have to deal with that too."   
  
Angel flinched at her words, but refused to back down. "I need to hear everything you know. Hunt...the boy," Angel stumbled over Hunter's name, finding himself unable to say it, "was attacked by two of Spike's men tonight. I happened to be walking by at the time, and stopped them. The boy was unconscious, so I took him home. But Spike won't give up easily, and I need to know what's going on so that I can stop him."   
  
Willow and Oz exchanged a long look, both struggling inwardly. They loved Hunter as much as their own sons, but the thought of Angel having a free pass to their home sent chills up their spines. Finally, Oz tightened his grip on Scooby's collar and muttered, "Come in."   
  
As Angel stepped into the house, Willow found herself praying desperately that they wouldn't regret the action. To distract herself, she asked quickly, "What do you want to know?" The sooner she told him, the sooner he would leave.   
  
Turning, Angel looked at the couple with burning eyes. "Everything that happened after Buffy's twentieth birthday."   
  
  
******************************  
  
  
Julia watched as the Jeep drove off, noting absently that Tobin would need to add some more duct tape to the back bumper soon. She and Mary had just started walking when they heard a desperate cry of, "Help!" behind them. Spinning around, they saw a man in a dark blazer trying to help a thin woman who was apparently fainting. The helpless and frightened expression on the man's face convinced them that the woman was in real trouble, and they both ran over, mentally running over what they remembered from a first aid class that they had taken together in Freshman year.   
  
Reaching the couple, Mary began to gently lower the woman to the ground, while Julia pulled out her cel-phone in case they needed to call an ambulance. Pressing her fingers to the woman's neck, Mary felt for a pulse, and froze with a jolt of fear when she couldn't find one. Glancing up at the man, she was shocked to see him punch Julia visciously, knocking her out immediately. Mary started to jump up, but found her wrist caught in an iron grip. Looking down, she was shocked out of several year's growth when she saw the woman staring up at her with a cold grin as her other hand came speeding up to meet Mary's face.   
  
Her last thought before unconsciousness claimed her was that she should have risked a ride in Tobin's car.   
  



	13. Help Those Who Help Themselves

Willow held her cup of tea tightly, trying to focus on the warmth that it offered. Oz was sitting next to her, taking long sips of his coffee. Neither of them looked at the man at the other end of the table, who gazed back at them with fathomless dark eyes. Taking a drink of her tea for strength, Willow began speaking.   
  
"You know better than us what happened on Buffy's twentieth birthday. She found out the next day that you had lost your soul, and she was devastated, but we managed to defeat the Judge. She refused to tell us most of the things that you did to hurt her over the next few weeks, but we saw a few that she couldn't hide from us. A few of the letters you left, Theresa, and a few things that I'd rather forget.   
  
It was about a month after Ms. Calendar's death that Buffy...well, she fainted a few times, and she was throwing up in the morning. I was the first one that she told. We lived in a small apartment off- campus with Cordelia at the time, and one day after classes she asked me for help. She had just taken one of those home-pregnancy tests, and it had come up positive. I told her to try it again, since those things always have a margin of error, but she had already tried four others, from four other brands, before she told me. All had said the same thing."   
  
For a moment Willow paused, remembering those frantic moments. Shaking off the memories of the past, she continued, holding Oz's hand for support.   
  
"We told Cordelia, and she made an appointment with an obstetrician for Buffy. We both went with her, so we were there when the doctor told her that she was three months pregnant....   
  
Seventeen years earlier....   
  
...."Oh, God." murmered Cordelia, placing a comforting arm around Buffy, who had gone white as a sheet.   
  
"I take it that this is not a planned pregnancy?" the doctor asked. The icy glares from Cordelia and Willow plainly answered him. With a vaguely sympathetic nod, the doctor handed Buffy some brochures, and walked out of the room. Glancing at the brightly colored papers, Willow noted that they were on either abortion or adoption.   
  
"Three months," mused Cordelia, "that means that it was right after Angel...well, right after your birthday. So who is the father?"   
  
In a dull voice, Buffy replied, "Angel is."   
  
"But, I thought you said that vampires can't have kids!" Willow said.   
  
"Apparently they can." Buffy noted wryly, placing a hand on her abdomen. "It looks like I won't be picking out any spring courses." A look of pain came over her face as she said that, and Willow remembered how proud Buffy had been to be accepted into college, and how for the first time she had really enjoyed learning.   
  
"Buffy, there are other options." Cordelia said carefully, gesturing to the brochures. Mutely, Buffy shook her head.   
  
"At least spend a few days thinking it over." Willow put in. "You're in college! To have the baby, you'd have to drop out, and then how would you support yourself and the baby? And what about the Slaying? Or Giles, how are you going to tell Giles?" Willow paused for a moment, hating her self-imposed role as the devil's advocate, and what she said next made her feel like pond scum, but she had to say it. "Or what about Angelus? He's trying to drive you insane! Won't he try to hurt the baby if he finds out?"   
  
Buffy nodded grimly. "Yes, he would. And I don't know how I'm going to support both of us, or how I'm going to tell Giles, or how I'm going to handle the Slaying. But I've been thinking about all of this since I took that test, basically 24/7. And the one thing that I do know is that I can't abort this baby. And adoption is out of the question."   
  
As Willow and Cordelia opened their mouths to protest, Buffy quickly explained her reasoning. "This baby is half-vampire! The best we can do for him is to keep him with people who will understand his background, and love him for what he is."   
  
"Him?" Cordelia asked softly. Buffy looked slightly surprised at her inadvertant lapse, but explained, "Ever since that night, I've been having dreams. They all start out differently, but end the same. Somehow I'll always be standing, and then this hooded figure will hand me a baby boy. Suddenly voices everywhere will be whispering, 'The Hunter, the Hunter', but I can't see anyone except the baby and the figure. Then the figure will pull back its hood, and it's Angelus. Then I'll be surrounded by fire, and Angelus will start laughing. Then I wake up."   
  
Willow couldn't find anything to say, but it was Cordelia who knew what to do. Reaching out, the dark-haired girl enfolded Buffy in a comforting hug, and whispered, "It's going to be all right, Buffy. We'll help you.....   
  
Present Day....   
  
....Willow rubbed her forehead, lost in memories that she had buried for years. Not looking at the vampire sitting across from her, or at her husband sitting next to her, she continued.   
  
"Buffy told Giles the next day. Cordelia and I offered to go with her, but she said that this was something she had to do alone. Cordy and I stuck around, and peeked in through the window to his office. We couldn't hear what they were saying, but they talked for an hour. Giles wasn't happy, far from it, but he respected her decision and he agreed to help." Willow sighed softly, remembering. Gently placing a hand on his wife's shoulder, Oz continued the story for her.   
  
"Xander and I found out about all of this two days later. We'd been at an LA movie premiere that I had won tickets to over the radio, and none of the girls were very eager to see Scream 4. We walked into the girls' apartment to tell them about it, and found quite a surprise waiting for us." Oz grinned slightly, remembering their reactions at what they had seen.   
  
"Cordelia had found some of her mom's old maternity clothes, and Willow had gone through all of our attics, and somehow managed to find about a boxload of old baby clothes. Kendra had taken the first flight she could find that was headed to California after Giles called her with the news, and had found a pile of baby books somewhere. The three of them had put together a baby shower for Buffy, and Xander and I walked right into it." Picking up the thread of the story, Willow smoothly continued.   
  
"Cordy dragged Xander out into the hall to tell him, and I pulled Oz into the bathroom. The two of us had gotten engaged a few weeks ago, but hadn't told anyone, so we decided to use the news to try and salvage the party. It did, but meanwhile Cordelia told Xander everything, and she told me later what his reaction was." Willow paused for a moment to take a drink of tea, and Angel spoke for the first time.   
  
"Let me guess," the vampire said, "he wanted to run right out and stake me." He was surprised at the chilling glares that both sent him.   
  
"Actually," Willow said pointedly, "his first worries were about Buffy. Most of us had always assumed that his feelings for her had just been a crush that had faded back in high school. But it turned out that he had always loved her, *really* loved her. He and Cordelia had broken up in freshman year of college, and they had both dated other people, but somehow through everything, he still loved Buffy."   
  
Looking carefully at the vampire as his wife spoke, Oz could see the flicker of jealousy in Angel's eyes at the mention of Xander's feelings for Buffy. Unknowing, Willow continued. "The next day, Xander proposed to Buffy. At first, she turned him down. She knew that she didn't love him the way that he wanted, and she didn't want him to throw away his future. But he kept after her. He had gotten his associates degree, and he dropped out of college to get a job. Buffy was about four months pregnant, and hadn't gone back for the spring semester, when she finally accepted.   
  
The wedding was held two weeks later, which actually wasn't too hard to arrange since Buffy and Xander couldn't afford to have anything fancy, and Xander's mom refused to help in any way. It was Giles who really saved the day, when they were living pretty much month-to- month. They sold Buffy's old house, which she had inherited when her mom died in that car crash, and used the money to pay in full for a smaller house, which they got a bargain for, so that no matter what happened, they wouldn't have to worry about rent or a mortgage. The new house was a fixer upper, so all of their spare time was spent working on it themselves. It was when they moved in that you found out about everything."   
  
Willow shivered, and skipped ahead. Angel didn't protest, as the events that she was skipping were burned into his memory.   
  
"Oz and I had both gotten our teaching licenses by this time, and had started working. We got married, and our families helped us buy a house on the same street as Buffy and Xander. This was when Buffy was around six months pregnant, and Cordelia and her boyfriend Mark had just gotten engaged."   
  
Angel noticed that, at the mention of Mark, both Willow and Oz frowned slightly, but put it out of mind as Willow continued.   
  
"Cordy and I both found out we were pregnant at the same time, and for a while Giles was convinced that it had to be part of a prophesy or something like that, and buried himself in his books."   
  
Willow smiled, and Oz threw in a casual comment, "Of course, the rest of us just refered to all the pregnancies as the 'bitching powers of the Hellmouth'." The couple exchanged a smile over the old joke.   
  
Looking up again at Angel, Willow saw that he was in the same position as he had been at the beginning of the narration. With a glance at the clock, she realized that she would have to hurry up if she wanted him out of the house with a comfortable margin until dawn, which she most certainly did. Tomorrow was the night before the full moon, and she would have enough problems getting her oldest son out of the house in time to chain her husband and younger son without having to worry about a 260-year-old murdering vampire already down there. She continued, but hurrying to the end, thought she hated to even think about the events of that night.   
  
"Hunter was born during the day, thankfully, and Xander and Buffy went home before night fell, along with their son. Luckily, Chris Eps had just finished his residency, and stayed with them for a few days to keep an eye on Buffy and the baby. Our son Jesse was born a few months later, followed by Cordelia's son Trevor. Things continued well, and we were all pretty happy. Buffy got a job teaching self-defense courses, and Xander eventually became the manager of his office.   
  
"Buffy started Slaying again regularly after Hunter was born, and she and Kendra were the scourges of the Hellmouth for almost four years, until Kendra was killed by Drusilla when that psycho was trying to harness the Hellmouth's energy. After we took down Drusilla, things were very quiet for almost two years, until.." Willow trailed off, unable to continue to the last event. Oz pulled her close to him, also unable to speak of what had been the worst night of both their lives.   
  
Leaning forward, Angel prompted them, unable to wait for the knowledge that he needed. "I have to know, who was the child that I killed that night, if it wasn't Hunter?"   
  
Willow began to cry silently, and Oz gently removed his arm from her as he got up and walked slowly over to the mantelpiece, where several framed photos stood. Picking one up, he spoke softly, almost to himself.   
  
"Hunter hated haircuts. It was so much trouble giving him one that Xander and Buffy tended to put it off until it was absolutely necessary. The night of his birthday, he was more than due for one. He was also very small for his age, and was shorter than everyone else his age until he was in eighth grade, when he suddenly shot up."   
  
Turning, Oz walked over to Angel, and handed him the photograph. Looking at it, Angel saw that it was a picture of a little girl with long brown braids and a cheerful smile. Not making the connection, Angel looked at Oz questioningly.   
  
Oz returned to his seat, where he put both of his arms around Willow, who buried her face in his shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was torn with pain.   
  
"Our daughter Jenny was born the year that Hunter and Jesse turned two. That picture was taken about a month before Hunter's eighth birtday. A few days after it was taken, a school bully stuck a fistful of gum and burrs into her braids, and we had to cut her hair as short as a boy's. During Hunter's birthday party, her brother spilled a cup of juice on her, and we put her in some spare clothes of Hunter's. The party lasted past dusk, and we left Jesse to sleep over with Hunter, but Jenny had to get a shot at the doctor's the next morning, and we decided to take her home." Oz's eyes were no longer dry, and he wiped them with the back of his sleeve as he continued. "Buffy and Xander walked with us, and when Willow got tired, Buffy carried Jenny. You ambushed us about two minutes before we would've reached our house."   
  
Angel realized what he had done, and all he could do was whisper, "Oh, my God."   
  
Oz glared at him coldly. When he spoke, his voice was tightly controlled, and it was clear that it was all he could do to restrain himself from jumping for the vampire's throat.   
  
"You killed my daughter, you murdering son of a bitch. We've told you what you asked to know! Now get out of my house and don't EVER come near any member of my family again, or full moon or not I'll tear you apart!"   
  
Wordlessly, Angel stood and slid quickly out the door, leaving the two parents to grieve over their long-dead child.   
  
  
**********************************  
  
  
Kari muffled a yawn and leaned forward to fiddle with the radio dial. Tobin glanced over at her, and smoothly shifted gears. Everyone always asked Kari why she went anywhere in Tobin's 'coffin on wheels', and while she never answered them, the truth was that Tobin was an excellent driver, and she knew her car's neurotic habits would be better than anyone else. If the Jeep wasn't safe to drive, then Tobin wouldn't let anyone in it. But riding in the Jeep had some severe drawbacks, one of which was that the radio could only pick up the oldies station. As the opening words of "The Way" began to play, Kari turned to her old friend with a guarded expression.   
  
"So," she said, "what did you do to Snyder to get him back for putting you in detention?"   
  
"Do to him? Why, Kari, where's the trust?" Tobin responded, her face a perfect mask of hurt innocence.   
  
"I know you better than that. Now, give. I'd like to know what to deny tomorrow."   
  
Tobin smirked, and the look of contentment in her eyes reminded Kari of her cat after it had caught a bird. "Well, his answering machine in his office should be quite full tomorrow."   
  
"What did you do?"   
  
"I put a little ad online with his phone number attached. He should be getting calls from some really perverted individuals."   
  
"What else?" Kari asked.   
  
"What do you mean?"   
  
"That's still a bit too low-key for you. Plus the fact that there's a weedwacker in your backseat."   
  
Tobin grinned. "Oh, I'll have to remember to get that out of there before school tomorrow." seeing the expression on Kari's face, Tobin hastily continued. "Tomorrow morning, the students and faculty should discover that some truly depraved individual spelt something not-too- flattering about Principal Snyder on the school's main lawn. I have, of course, no idea why anyone would do such a thing."   
  
"Anything else?"   
  
"Of course," Tobin said cheerily, "but if I told you, than you wouldn't have the necessary look of shock that's going to be essential in my alibi."   
  
Kari gave an exasperated sigh, and for a few minutes the only sound in the car was the muffled lyrics to "Tubthumping".   
  
Finally, Tobin broke the silence. "So, are things all quiet on the Western Front?"   
  
"Nah. My parents are fighting again." Kari said. Her parents had been battling off and on for the last year, and as a result she tried to stay out of the house as much as possible.   
  
"I'd say you could stay over at my house until it all blows over, but we don't have any room."   
  
Kari looked over at her friend in surprise. "But I just asked you this morning, and you said that it was just you and your parents."   
  
Carefully shifting gears, Tobin gave her a sardonic grin. "Very interesting story there. Some environmental bill just got introduced to the House, so my dad will be leaving on a flight with the rest of his Republican friends to oppose it, and my mom will be heading off in a van with her environmental squad to push it through."   
  
"You know," Kari commented, "whoever says that opposites attract has apparently met your parents."   
  
"Tell me about it. So anyway, they don't want to leave me at home unattended, something about an adult being present in case police show up, so they manage to con big brother TJ to spend his college break at home. Then, realizing that he'll just spend all week locked in his room drawing blueprints for his architectural class, they call up the other college boy. So Terence agreed to come home."   
  
"What's his major again?" Like many people, Kari had trouble remembering which of Tobin's five brothers was which. The fact that all of their names began with a 'T' had never helped very much.   
  
"This week I think it's philosophy. I'm not sure, though."   
  
"So TJ and Terence are home. That only fills up two of your house's three extra rooms. Plus there is always extra room on your floor."   
  
"I'm not done yet. It gets better. Todd is home too."   
  
"TODD? He lives in an apartment right next to the hospital!" Kari couldn't think of any reason for Todd to be back home, as his residency at Sunnydale General was made easier by his easy commute.   
  
"Paint." Tobin said cryptically.   
  
"Pardon? I'm not making the connection."   
  
Tobin elaborated, "His landlord is having the whole building re- painted, and Todd discovered that the paint fumes don't agree with him. So he came back to the house and reclaimed his old room. Anyway, this was all before I got home from school. By the time I got home, Theo had pulled up."   
  
"What's Theo doing back? I thought he just got ordained."   
  
"Oh, he did. Apparently he felt that the only way the rest of the family was getting to heaven was if he spent his lifetime praying for us."   
  
"How did his fiance take the news that he wanted to become a priest?"   
  
"Not very well, as I recall. So when I got home, I had the joy of seeing my four older brothers, whom I had thought were finally out of the house for good, sitting around the table playing poker while my mom and dad juggled about two cel-phones each, trying to figure out how to completely undermine each other's political position."   
  
"Why do I get the feeling that it gets better?"   
  
"You've known my family too long. And it does. Tom's wife just filed for divorce."   
  
"Whaah?"   
  
"He told her he needed more space, so she locked him out of the house."   
  
"Ouch."   
  
"You can certainly say that. Apparently this was right before he had to handle a press meeting for the governor. So he shows up, and everyone is waiting for this wonderful PR man to save the day yet again, and instead he has a complete breakdown, on camera! They'll be playing the footage again on the morning news, but Theo promised to tape the evening news for me, so I probably already have a copy."   
  
Kari absently rubbed her head. Hearing about Tobin's family was usually enough to give her a severe headache, and this was no exception. "So let me get this straight, within the course of one day all five of your older brothers end up coming to stay at your house for a while? How old are they?"   
  
"Terence is twenty-one, TJ is twenty-three, Todd is twenty-six, and Theo and Tom are twenty-eight, that whole twin thing."   
  
"This is starting to sound like a movie script."   
  
"They say the world is all a stage. But obviously the play is unrehearsed and everybody is ad-libbing."   
  
"Maybe that's why it's hard to tell if we're in a tragedy or a farce."   
  
"We need more special effects and dance numbers." Tobin said with a grin as she slowed at a stop sign. As she tried to continue forward, though, the engine stalled. Kari groaned as Tobin tried again, with the same result. With a quick quirk of her eyebrows, Tobin popped the hood and climbed out of the car. With the coordinated movements that hinted at many such occurances, Kari grabbed the jar of anti-freeze and the flashlights, and got out to join Tobin at the hood of the car.   
  
Taking the flashlight that Kari handed her, Tobin spent a few minutes poking around, looking for the problem. To her surprise, it was not the water pump, and the anti-freeze level was fine. Instead, it appeared that her battery was dead.   
  
With an apologetic shrug, she turned to Kari. "We'll try to pop-start it, and if that doesn't work, we'll have to push it back to my house so one of my brothers can jump it."   
  
"You're kidding, right?" Kari said.   
  
"Hey, it's not that bad!" Tobin said defensively. "It's mostly flat from here to my house, and with two of us it shouldn't be too bad."   
  
Kari just glared at her friend. "So how do we pop-start it?"   
  
"Well," Tobin said, removing her jacket and rolling up her sleeves. "You get over on the passengers side, and I get over on the drivers side, and we both push the car as fast as we can, and then I jump in and pop the clutch. Sometimes, it'll work."   
  
As Tobin started a countdown, Kari muttered to herself, "I should've walked with Julia and Mary. They're probably home by now."   
  
"3...2...1...PUSH!"   
  
  
*******************************  
  
  
The first thing Julia was aware of was the cold cement floor that she was lying on. Slowly, the sound of male voices filtered their way into her rattled brain. Opening her eyes, for a moment she couldn't see anything in the partial darkness. It looked like she was in some kind of basement room, where the only illumination came from the weak moonlight that trickled through a tiny window that was caked in dirt and mildew. Memory of the events in the cemetery came back to her in a rush, and she sat up quickly. Too quickly. For a moment all she could see were stars, and she fought the urge to vomit. Placing a hand on her throbbing head, she felt something sticky. Sniffing her hand tentatively, she gagged and again choked down bile. Her hand was covered in blood, and from the feel of it, her hair was caked in it.   
  
So far this was not promising to be her best night ever. Julia took deep, careful breaths, knowing that if she didn't get a handle on this, she would start hyperventalating. Whatever trouble she was in, passing out wasn't going to make things any better.   
  
After a moment or two of constant breathing, the pain in her head receded slightly. Turning her head to her right, she saw Mary. The thin redhead was curled in a tight ball, whimpering. Julia knew from experience that Mary wasn't the person you wanted to be stuck with in a crisis situation. Back in fourth grade, when Tobin had fallen out of a tree and broken her arm, Kari had been the one to run to call the paramedics, she had been the one to try and keep Tobin from moving, and Mary had been the one who stood there and screamed. In the end, the emergency crew had to sedate Mary for hysterics before they could even look at Tobin.   
  
The scrape of a shoe against the concrete snapped Julia out of her thoughts, and she spun around. Or rather, tried to spin around. She had turned about halfway before the sharp ache in her head caught up with her, and once again she found herself gagging slightly.   
  
~Hmm, note to self. Don't make sudden movements with a head wound.~   
  
Once she trusted herself enough to open her eyes, she did so, only to be blinded by a piercingly bright flashlight.   
  
"Listen, do you people mind pointing that thing away from my eyes? I don't appreciate being blinded by people who have just kidnapped me," she snapped, her mouth moving faster than her mind. Once her brain caught up, she gave a soft groan.   
  
~Niiiiiice one, Julia. Let's piss off the people whose basement you are now stuck in. Really endear yourself to them.~   
  
A soft chuckle echoed through the room as the flashlight moved away from her face, leaving her blinking frantically, trying to readjust her vision.   
  
"Same old bitch, huh Julia? I guess some people never change." whispered a soft, and vaguely menacing voice which nevertheless struck her as naggingly familiar.   
  
"Who are you?" she asked, unable to keep a slight tremor out of her voice.   
  
"You don't remember? I'm hurt. Really." The hand holding the flashlight shifted so that the bright beam illuminated its bearer's face. A strangled gasp worked its way out of Julia's throat as she looked on a face that she had never expected to see in this life.   
  
"Joel?" she whispered.   
  
~No, you moron.~ her mind berated her. ~That *cannot* be Joel. He died almost five months ago. You went to his funeral, for criminy's sake! You've just suffered a head injury and you're delusional.~   
  
"Give the girl a gold star!" he crowed with a mocking smile. "Maybe you're smarter than I thought. Not all that likely, though."   
  
"Joel, what's going on? You're dead!"   
  
"Actually, Jules, you're right. I am dead," her friend's familiar, boyish features melted away into sharp ridges and even sharper fangs, and his dark blue eyes became a buttery gold. Julia fell back slightly with a muffled shriek. With a speed and grace that he had never possessed in life, Joel leaped forward and grabbed a handfull of her blond hair, pulling her head back.   
  
"But not quite as dead as you're going to be." he finished with a cold smirk as he moved in to strike.   
  
"STOP!" bellowed a voice from the doorway. Joel twisted slightly to look over, never loosening his grip on Julia. "What?" he asked in an irritated tone, as though someone had just interrupted him in the middle of a game that he was one point away from winning, not prevented him from killing a friend.   
  
A thin man stepped into the room, his pale features becoming almost colorless in the dim light. "Your master made it very clear that neither girl was to be harmed until I had made the identification and reported back to him." his voice, tinged with a light Boston accent, seemed to slowly lose strength as he spoke, until the last words were spoken with dull hopelessness. It was hard to believe that this same man had halted Joel just moments before with only one word.   
  
Joel gave another mocking smile and released Julia, his face smoothing itself back to the mask of youthful cheerfulness. She fell backwards, sobbing in terror at her near escape from whatever that...thing that Joel had been for a moment.   
  
"So?" he asked in a disinterested tone. "Make the identification already. I'm bored."   
  
The man stepped closer, and for a moment Julia found herself staring into a pair of seemingly depthless grey eyes. She got the impression of sadness, despair, and an almost overwhelming self-hatred.   
  
"This is one," he said regretfully, "the redhead is another."   
  
"Now was that so hard, Sean?" Joel asked. "So we now have Julia Meah and Mary Gawel in our custody. Whoop-de-doo. I'm sure the boss will be just tickled pink. Especially once we break the news to him that we only caught two out of four pigeons, despite the 'directions' given to us by his pet psychic." he gave Mary a disgusted nudge with his boot, and when she whimpered and cringed away, he cocked his foot back as though to kick her. Shocked out of her tears, Julia yelled angrily, "Joel, stop, damn it! What the hell do you want with us? What's going on?"   
  
Joel shrugged nochelantly. Turning, he walked out the door. His voice echoed back into the room. "Oh, you'll find out." With another regretful look to her, the second man hurried out. The door, a large steel contraption, was shut after him with an omnious thud.   
  
Long minutes crept by where all Julia did was crouch down and listen to her own breathing. When she was certain that neither of them would be coming back right away, she turned to her friend.   
  
"Mary?" she whispered. When she got no response, she tried again. "Mary? Can you hear me? Come on, we have to get out of here." This time all she got was a whimper. Clearly Mary wasn't going to be any help.   
  
Slowly getting to her feet, Julia put out her arms for balance and waited for the nausea that the movement caused to recede. When it finally did, she carefully made her way around the dim room, running her hands over the walls. Not that she expected a hidden door to be there for a convienent escape, but she had to try.   
  
The one window was a good three feet above her head. Without Mary to help her, it might as well have been on the moon for all her ability to reach it. Angrily, she slammed her hand against the wall. Wincing in pain, she shook the little crumbles of cement that stuck to her hand.   
  
~Wait a minute....crumbles of cement?~   
  
Julia dropped to her knees and re-examined the wall. It was old, how old, she couldn't tell, and time and weather had taken their toll. Just picking at it, more of it crumbled off into her hand. Tapping at it thoughtfully, she considered her options for a moment.   
  
~Tunneling through it is out of the question....but maybe...~   
  
Reaching up to her bloodcaked hair, she removed a metal chopstick that she was currently using to keep her blond locks in an upsweep. Tentatively, then with more assurance, she used the chopstick to carve out a foothold in the crumbling cement. She then worked on another. Then another. She made a small path for herself as high as her arm could reach, then she held the chopstick between her teeth while she carefully used the holds to climb up the wall. Working desperately to keep her balance, she clung to the wall with one hand like some kind of deranged spider monkey while with her other she continued to make handhold after handhold, finally dragging herself up to the level of the window. Reaching out carefully with her left hand, she tried to open the tiny window. It was locked, the wood of the frame had rotted away to the point where it splintered easily in her hand.   
  
~Someone up there must like me.~ she thought as she started clearing away the sharp glass and the remains of the wood. Turning, she hissed over her shoulder, "Mary!". No response. She tried again, a little louder. Again, nothing. Knowing she couldn't just leave Mary here, she prepared to descend. A sudden noise at the door made her freeze, though. Looking back, her night-adjusted eyes could see the handle start to turn.   
  
Desperately, Julia tried to shimmy through the small window, ignoring the pain of the glass shards. Behind her, the metal door screeched open.   
  
~Just another second...~   
  
Julia had just managed to get her upper body through the window, with just her legs still inside the cell, when she heard a shout and the sound of running.   
  
Running towards her.   
  
~Just another second....~   
  



	14. Take This Cup From My Hands

Xander's words seemed to echo around the room, and the two men watched as the dark haired vampire turned and fled the house. There was no satisfaction on Xander's face, however, just the same broken pain that appeared there whenever he remembered Buffy.   
  
Xander turned and walked slowly into the kitchen under the pretense of getting more ice for Hunter, but Giles saw the suspicious moisture in his old student's eyes, and heard the choked tone in his voice.  
  
As he gently stroked his godchild's dark brown hair, Giles felt his mind drift back to the day that any parent - for indeed, he had considered Buffy the daughter of his heart, if not of his flesh - dreads, that of burying a child.....  
  
Nine years earlier.....  
  
Giles stood beside the coffin which contained his Slayer, wondering if he looked down, he would find that his heart had truly been torn from his chest. Cordelia leaned against him, sobbing brokenly, with her son Trevor clinging to his mother's leg, not truly understanding what had occurred. Wrapping one arm around the grieving woman, Giles gently pressed a handkerchief into her hand. Cordelia had been the strong one through this crisis, the one to organize the funeral, to make certain everything was in order, and now - with that responsibility completed - she finally just broke down and cried as she had not been able to over the past three days.   
  
Willow had simply collapsed, the death of both her best friend and her child being too much for her, and Oz didn't want to leave her. Jesse had been sent to stay with relatives until his mother was 'better'.   
  
Giles' left hand was held in the death-grip of Hunter, who wore an expression of greater sorrow than any eight-year-old should have to bear. The dark suit that Cordelia had found for him was too large, and it seemed to make the child seem only more fragile and lost.  
  
But it wasn't Hunter that Giles was worried about. The boy was young, and would recover, though the grief of this would undoubtedly follow him all his life. And it wasn't Willow or Oz, for Giles knew that they would eventually tuck the pain of their lost Jenny deep into their hearts, a wound that would always be there, but one that they would be able to live with. And it wasn't Cordelia, because she would miss her friend dearly, but she would go on.  
  
It was Xander who Giles feared for.  
  
Since his outburst at Angel - apparently restored - he had become empty, unreachable. Even Willow had been able to get only the occasional monosyllable from him.  
  
The eulogies had all been spoken, and the priest - the same man who had married Buffy and Xander, and the same man who had christened their son - stepped up to utter the final prayer.  
  
"Wait."   
  
The words were hoarse, spoken by a throat that was still rough with grief, but they were clear to all. Looking at no one, Xander walked to the head of the casket, and gently placed his hand on it, smoothing the wood with the same love and reverence that Giles had always seen him stroke the golden hair of his wife.   
  
Slowly, Xander began to speak a eulogy.   
  
"I remember the first time I ever saw her...it was sophomore year, and I was coming to school on my skateboard. The moment I saw her it was just....I couldn't think of anything but her....I just stared at her as she walked up the stairs....  
  
"She wanted me as a friend, and I would be that, if only to be able to stay by her side. We were best friends for many years....we still were, even after the day she told me that she truly loved me...  
  
"That was the most wonderful day of my life....she has always..and *will* always...be the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me..." Xander choked slightly, and tears began to slowly stream down his face.   
  
"She changed everyone she met, and for the better. She brought light to darkness. She was the bravest, most loving person I've ever known....and I'll miss her until the day that I die."  
  
Then Xander knelt down, and he was no longer addressing the mourners, but the woman who lay inside the casket, which had remained closed to hide her ravaged body, torn and mauled.  
  
"You were the love  
for certain of my life  
you were simply my beloved wife  
I don't know for certain   
how I'll live my life  
now alone without my beloved wife  
my beloved wife  
  
"I can't believe  
I've lost the very best of me  
  
"You were the love  
for certain of my life  
for 8 years simply my beloved wife  
with another love I'll never lie again  
it's you I can't deny  
it's you I can't defy  
a depth so deep   
into my grief  
without my beloved soul  
I renounce my life  
as my right   
now alone without my beloved wife  
my beloved wife.  
  
"My beloved wife  
my love is gone she suffered long  
in hours of pain  
my love is gone  
now my suffering begins  
my love is gone  
would it be wrong if I should  
surrender all the joy in my life  
go with her tonight?  
  
"My love is gone she suffered long  
in hours of pain  
my love is gone  
would it be wrong if I should  
just turn my face away from the light  
go with her tonight?"  
  
The fear that Giles had felt for two days suddenly crystalized. Deep down, he felt cold terror at what Xander might do now, in his grief. Gently removing Cordelia from his arm, Giles tightened his grip on Hunter's hand, and walked over to where Xander knelt beside the coffin, unmoving.  
  
Placing a fatherly hand on the broken man's dark hair, Giles spoke in gentle, compassionate tones.   
  
"Yes, Xander, it would be wrong."  
  
"But it hurts so much. I don't want to go on without her." he whispered.  
  
"You have to," Giles said, firmer this time, "sometimes living is the harder burden, but you must do it."  
  
"I don't want to."   
  
Looking down, Giles closed his eyes for a moment and played his hole card.   
  
"Would you leave your son alone? Hunter has just lost his mother. Don't take his father away also."  
  
For a long moment, Xander remained silent. Then, he slowly stood up, and lifted Hunter into his arms, where the small boy buried his face into his father's neck and finally cried.  
  
As they walked back to the group of mourners, the priest spoke once more, and Xander looked around suddenly. He didn't fully understand the words or their meaning, but Giles could see that something about them, their essence, the very sound of each syllable, wrapped about his shattered heart and calmed the ragings of his tormented mind. No, he didn't understand but he held them close nonetheless, and Giles watched as Xander repeated them silently, forcing himself to remember each word.  
  
"Let us hear," the priest intoned, "what St. Paul told the early church in Corinth during the depths of their despair. 'And this I say, friends, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the Kingdom of God. Neither does that which passes away inherit what is eternal. Now behold, I show you the great mystery. We shall not all sleep. Rather we shall all be changed....in a moment...in the twinkling of an eye. At the last trump, when the trumpet shall sound and the dead shall be raised up incorruptible....and we shall all be changed....."  
  
......Present Time  
  
Getting up, Giles followed his student into the kitchen, readying himself for The Talk. One look at Xander's face, though, was enough to clamp Giles' jaws shut. It was the expression of cold, killing rage that he had seen on Xander's face only a few times before.   
  
Giles sat wordlessly, watching as Xander stalked around the small kitchen. On any other occasion, he would've waited several days before talking with the man whom he regarded as a son. But now, he didn't have the luxury of time.  
  
"We need to tell him, Xander." Giles said shortly. Hunter's heritage had always been a touchy subject, and even more so the question of when - if ever - to inform the boy of his past. Small white lies - told with such good intentions - had kept Hunter blissfully ignorant of the fact that he was so different.   
  
Hunter was - to Giles' knowledge - the first vampire-human hybrid to live beyond his infancy. The reason behind this fact had suddenly been made horribly clear one evening, when Hunter had still been three months old.   
  
Buffy and Xander, exhausted from work, slaying, and caring for their son, had fallen asleep in the living room, with the television still on. The cat had stepped on the remote, raising the volume to the point that when Hunter had woken up and started crying, they hadn't heard him.  
  
Finally woken by the baby's screams, the young couple had hurried up the stairs. When they reached the cradle and looked inside, they truly grasped the reality of Hunter's heritage for the first time.  
  
The baby's green eyes were now a buttery gold, small, needle-sharp fangs had sprung from his gums, and the infant's screaming was interspersed with vampiric snarling.  
  
Once Hunter was calmed - his trembling parents had changed his diaper - his innocent green eyes returned, the fangs slid back into his gums, and all that emerged from his mouth were coos of contentment. The necessity, however, of keeping Hunter calm had impressed itself upon both Xander and Buffy.  
  
For a time, this seemed to work. Over the next few months, the terrifying visage of a vampire on their son's face appeared less and less.   
  
Until one day when Hunter was five, and he and Trevor got into a fight. It was a typical enough fight between children, with a great deal of hairpulling and poking, and they were quickly separated by their mothers, but when Buffy looked over her son for any cuts, she saw something truly horrifying.  
  
A drop of blood was trickling down Hunter's chin, and he was eagerly trying to lick it up.   
  
That began a nightmarish time for Buffy and Xander. The one drop of blood unwillingly donated by his playmate seemed to spark a dark need in their son. When playing with others, he had to be closely monitored by an adult. All cuts had to be immediately covered, and Buffy began storing all of her Slaying supplies at Giles' house.  
  
Six months after it began, it ended. Xander came home from work one day to see Hunter crouched over their cat, Rascal, who was lying limply on the the floor. Thinking nothing out of the ordinary, he walked over. Nearing, he placed a hand on his son's shoulder, and immediately pulled it back at the low snarl that came in response.  
  
When Hunter turned to look at him, Xander had to choke down a cry of horror. His son's small face was smeared with blood, and his yellow eyes were almost feverish. Rascal's dark fur was caked in her own blood, and as Xander watched, Hunter again lowered his face to the cat's neck.  
  
In a flash, Xander realized that he had to stop this now. He and Buffy had tried a gentle approach, little reproofs and no dessert when Hunter looked too long at blood or when he bit someone. But this had to stop. It had already gone too far.  
  
For the first and only time, Xander struck his son. Slapping Hunter across the face, he watched as the vampiric features melted away to reveal only Hunter's expression of hurt and confusion.  
  
Grabbing the back of his son's shirt, he shook the boy, and then forced him to look at the dead cat.  
  
"Do you see what you did to Rascal?" he screamed, "Bad, bad boy! You don't do that! It's a bad thing to do that!" Ignoring his son's sobs, he continued to yell.  
  
At the commotion, Buffy ran into the room. At the macabre picture before her - that of her husband screaming at her son, whose face was dripping with blood - she screamed in terror.   
  
From that day on, Hunter couldn't stand blood. The memory of the exact event faded, but he developed a very deep phobia of blood. It still beckoned him, but the smell or sight would trigger the memory of his father's rage and his mother's horror, and the combination would make Hunter break out in a cold sweat and often vomit.  
  
Giles' trip down memory lane was quickly brought to a halt by Xander's sharp answer.  
  
"No." Unequivocal. Unyielding. "No."  
  
"We *have* to tell him." Giles said, firmer. "He needs to know what he'll be facing-"  
  
"He'll be facing nothing!" Xander snarled. "He's too much like his mother. If he knew what was out there, stalking and killing people, he'd go out and try to stop it."  
  
"We both know that he quite possibly could. He's been taught to fight since he took his first steps. What Buffy and I taught him in games and stories were truths that will save his life." It was true. From the time that Hunter could walk, Buffy would take him down into the basement and patiently lead him in an 'exercise routine' that was really a preparatory step towards any fighting style. She had given her son the basic tools, and Giles had trained the boy after her death. Both Buffy and Giles had taught him demon lore in the same manner that other children learned their abc's. Rhymes of basic knowledge had filled the boy's head from his infancy.  
  
"'Wood to the heart; Then dust in the wind'." Xander said mockingly, quoting one of the rhymes. "Buffy did that to protect him if he was ever attacked, not to prepare him to go chasing trouble."   
  
"He could-"  
  
"You'll get my son killed." Xander's eyes were dark with remembered pain. "I lost my wife to the darkness, and I'm not about to let that happen to Hunter. Who's the Slayer these days? We can get her down here. It's *her* job to kill what goes bump in the night."  
  
"I've tried." Giles said. And indeed, he had tried. "Janine Sebastian's Watcher has informed me that she is in New York at present."  
  
"What could be more exciting than a Hellmouth? All the Slayers used to come here." Xander had a point, and he knew it. The last three Slayers had all been immediately assigned the Sunnydale. Andra, Madeline, and Sara had all been traditional Slayers, much like their predecessor, Kendra. And like Kendra, they had all died within a year. This new Slayer, though, traveled extensively, dragging her Watcher, Adrian Castel, along for the ride. Giles had actually become accustomed to being woken up in the middle of the night by some long-distance call from Adrian, where the young Watcher would give him a long list of woes about his independent Slayer.  
  
"Mr. Castel heard rumors of the demon Vaedus in that area, and by all accounts Janine is quite busy decimating his followers." Giles watched as the dark-haired man continued to pace. "We're going to have to deal with this on our own." he said softly.  
  
Xander closed his eyes, and for a moment Giles thought that for once the man was actually heeding his advice. But then he opened his eyes, and Giles knew the truth.  
  
"We'll keep all the boys off the streets for a while. The vampires can't get at them if they are safely indoors. While the kids are holed up, we'll do research. No prophesy is set in stone, Buffy proved that."   
  
Giles opened his mouth to protest, knowing that it would be useless, when a soft groan emerged from the living room. Hurrying out, the two men watched with relief as the lanky youth on the couch stirred.  
  
"What happened?" Hunter asked. Xander shot Giles a warning look as he said soothingly, "You were mugged, Hunter. Some guy found you and brought you home."   
  
"Mugged?" Hunter asked blearily. Wincing, he pressed the ice pack to his head. "Geez, this feels like the worst hangover ever. Not that I would even know what a hangover feels like." he hastily amended, looking like a deer in the headlights, "After all, alcohol is something I'll never even look at until I'm 21." Looking down, Giles felt mild amusement as Hunter just dug himself deeper. "In fact, I've decided to swear off beer. Though swearing off would imply that I've actually had one, which of course would be horribly, horribly wrong."  
  
The babbling - which was quickly turning into an outright confession of guilt - was cut off when Xander gently patted his son on the shoulder.   
  
"You have to learn to be more careful, son. Sunnydale is a dangerous place." seeing his son's almost audible 'puh-leeze', Xander said words that held a knell of doom to a popular teenager.  
  
"I don't want you going out at night for a while." Hunter's jaw dropped in utter horror as his father continued. "I'll talk with Oz, Willow, and Cordelia, and I'm sure that considering what happened tonight, they'll keep Jesse and Trevor inside as well."  
  
"How long?" Hunter moaned.  
  
"I don't know. Maybe a few weeks-"  
  
"A few *weeks*??" Hunter yelped, as though the words themselves had scalded him. "But I've learned my lesson! I'll stay in groups, and not walk home alone any more! And there's the dance on Saturday-"  
  
"There will be other dances, Hunter." Xander said. "And I mean this one, too. You are not allowed outside at night until I say otherwise."  
  
"But whyyyyyy?"   
  
"Because I said so. When you're a parent, you'll understand the true beauty of those words. Now go to bed."  
  
With a mutter, Hunter - whose cuts and bruises were already starting to fade - trudged up the stairs in dejection.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Walking down the dimly-lit street, Angel found a small amount of amusement in the fact that the last time he had been kicked out twice in one night had been back in his days as a human. Of course, it had not been homes, it had been brothels. And he had been kicked out for not having any coin, not for killing loved ones.  
  
Things certainly changed. And not for the better.  
  
His own father had been disgusted at Angel's disolate ways. His solution to his son's habits of coming home dead drunk every morning after a night of whoring had been to see if any of his friends had marriageable daughters. Andrew Roarke had been convinced that fatherhood was the only thing that would settle his errant offspring down. And in his defense, Andrew did have somewhat of a point. That was exactly how he had curbed the behavior of Angel's two older brothers and his younger sister.  
  
The Roarke clan had a bit of a reputation. Proudly re-earned by every generation. Father Stanley had made it a point in several sermons that God had chosen the perfect punishment for the youthful sins of the Roarke young: children in their parents' own image.  
  
Well, until Angel, that is. He had slaughtered every sibling, every cousin, every niece, anyone who carried a drop of Roarke blood. For almost seven years, he had hunted down every member of his family until he was alone - the last Roarke.  
  
Until Hunter. A child from two worlds, Vampire and Slayer. A child whose father had tried to kill him.  
  
After learning of Hunter's existence, Angelus had become almost as fixated on the son as he was on the mother. He knew that nothing would cause Buffy as much pain as watching him kill their child. For four years, Angelus had tried every plot he could think of to snatch the boy. Every devilish scheme, every clever and dastardly plan.  
  
Then, he had tried the direct approach.   
  
He stayed low for almost five weeks, doing nothing more than raise a few fledglings every week for Buffy to dust. Despite their best efforts, he knew that the Scooby Gang would be starting to relax. He used that to his advantage one night, when he snuck up to the Summers-Harris residence. Pressing his ear to the kitchen door, he listened to the murmurs as the small family finished dinner. Peeking through the window, he watched as Buffy wiped spaghetti sauce off of her squirming son before releasing him. The small boy ran into the living room as Buffy started cleaning up the area around his seat - apparently spaghetti was a high-maintenance meal with a four-year-old - and Xander washed the dishes.   
  
Slipping around the perimeter of the small house, he looked through the living room window. Buffy and Xander had both invested in thick curtains, but tonight the relative silence in the paranormal had left its mark, and the curtains had not been tied as usual, merely pulled. A small area was left uncovered, more than enough for Angelus to spy on the small family.  
  
The vampire's eyes narrowed as he watched the small boy push a plastic truck around the floor of the room. Leaning closer to the glass, Angelus could even hear the loud noises the child was making. Softly, Angelus tapped at the window, careful to make the sound only loud enough for the boy to hear. When the startled boy looked up, Angelus gave him a wide smile and a cheerful wave. Confused, and slightly wary, the boy gave a slight wave in return. Seeing the boy open his mouth, about to call to his parents, Angelus raised a quick finger to his mouth, gesturing for silence. If his son called for his parents, things would end far too quickly. Angelus was well aware that this was probably his only chance to use this trick.  
  
For several minutes, Angelus made the silly faces that he recalled children being fond of. His memory was obviously still in working order, because the boy relaxed, and even began to smile. Finally, confident that he had gained the child's trust, Angelus got up and walked over to the door. Softly, he knocked.   
  
A long moment of silence passed, during which Angelus waited anxiously. Then, the doorknob jiggled a little, as if someone very small was trying to get a good hold on it. Slowly, the door opened, and the small boy stood silhouetted in the light.  
  
Crouching down to put himself at his son's level, Angelus gave another bright smile and asked softly, "Can I come in?"  
  
The boy looked at him with wide green eyes, considering.   
  
"I'm not supposed to invite strangers in." he answered, his young voice solemn as he carefully pronounced each word.  
  
"It's okay," Angelus assured him with another smile, "I'm a friend of your mommy's. She won't mind."   
  
The boy frowned as he thought about this. "Are you sure?"   
  
"Of course. I know your mommy *very* well." Angelus gave a dark grin at that. From the kitchen, the conversation between Buffy and Xander suddenly stopped. Angelus heard Buffy say softly, "He's been quiet too long." he knew his time was running out when Xander called out, "Hey, Sport, are you okay?"  
  
Angelus tried to quiet him, but the child called out, "I'm fine, Daddy. I'm just talking to Mommy's friend."  
  
The sound of a shattering plate ripped through the sudden silence. Pounding feet echoed through the house as Buffy and Xander raced into the room. The expression of horror on Buffy's face warmed Angelus' cold heart, even as she pulled the small boy into her arms. Xander was shuffling frantically through a desk drawer, and Angelus knew from past observations that that was where the couple hid various slaying tools from the boy.   
  
"Go away, Angel," Buffy said, holding her son so tightly that he squalled in protest. "You aren't welcome here."  
  
"Come on, Buff," Angelus said, smirking at her, "I just wanted to spend some time with my little family." his smirk widened, "Let's see if we can give the kid a brother." The disgust and anger that twisted Buffy's lovely features was delightful to him.  
  
"He has her eyes, Xander," the vampire said gleefully, "but I think that in a few years you might be looking at a miniature replica of yours truly. Of course," he smirked, "I don't plan to let him live that long."  
  
He would've said more, but Xander found the vial of holy water. The moment it was in his hand, he hurled it at the demon lounging in his doorway. Angelus ducked just in time to avoid a facefull, but Buffy took that opportunity to slam the door.  
  
The loud sound of teenage voices jerked Angel from his reverie. Looking up, he saw two young girls tinkering under the hood of a rather dilapidated Jeep.  
  
"Face it, we should just start walking." said one, adjusting the flashlight she was holding slightly according to her companion's directions.  
  
"Give me a few minutes. I think I found the problem." came a second voice, slightly muffled due to the speaker's position of being halfway inside the engine.  
  
"Do you girls need any help?" Angel called. Auto mechanics were not his forte, but he could at least try and make sure that they weren't killed while their car stalled.  
  
"Sure," called the first, the same time that the muffled, "No," came from the hood.  
  
Deciding to ignore the second answer, Angel walked over. The first girl came over and introduced herself as Kari, and her friend as Tobin. As Angel stepped closer to take a look at the engine - as if he could do anything - Kari shifted the flashlight she was holding to illuminate his face, ignoring the shrieks of protest that echoed from the hood.  
  
"Hunter??" she gasped, dropping the flashlight in surprise. Angel nearly fell over from surprise himself, but then quickly chastised himself. His son looked a great deal like him, and this girl looked around his age. She was probably a classmate of Hunter's.   
  
"No, I'm sorry." he said, "My name is Angel." stooping down, he retrieved the flashlight, shining it on her face. He was surprised to see her blushing deeper than such a mistake would usually result in.  
  
"Oh, of course, I should've known." Kari babbled, "I mean, Hunter is my age, and you're, well, not. Plus Hunter is pretty tanned, and I've never really seen him in a leather jacket. And now that I think about it, you too really don't look all that much alike. I mean, for a second there it was like 'whoa!', but really-"  
  
"We get the idea, Kari!" came the voice of an annoyed Tobin, "Sheesh. I know you like the guy, but now you're starting to see him in random guys on the street. I think this is getting serious." Angel watched in interest as the girl's blush intensified. Avoiding his eyes, she quickly took the flashlight and repositioned it for Tobin.  
  
Angel looked at Kari with more interest, this time not just as a girl out at night, but as a girl out at night who had a crush on his son.  
  
Rich dark hair fell midway down her back in soft waves, contrasting with her light brown eyes. Her face wasn't anything knock-me-over-beautiful, but it was pretty, and she had a sweet smile. Jeans, sneakers, and a dark coat didn't make a very stylish outfit, but something in her manner made it look good.  
  
Angel's silent contemplation was cut short when the engine of the car suddenly sputtered, then roared to life. The miracle worker shimmied out from under the hood, and stretched to her full height.  
  
Which was, at most, 5'1. The image of tininess was only enhanced by the oversized shirt that fell all the way down to the knees of her faded blue jeans (both of which were now liberally splattered with oil). As she wiped her oil-smeared hands on some paper towels, Angel took a moment to observe her.   
  
Tobin's large dark eyes seemed almost oversized on her sharp-featured face. Her black hair was cut as short as a boy's, but the style actually suited her. Her skin was either deeply tanned or naturally dark, and something in the way she stood suggested that everyone around her was just abnormally tall.   
  
Just as he was sizing her up, Tobin was doing the same to him. Clearly he passed some sort of test, because suddenly her small frame completely relaxed - though he hadn't even realized that she had been tensed - and she smiled up at him blindingly. The laconic tone that had colored all of her previous statements was gone, and all that was left was a perky, interested, and also slightly flirtatious voice as she thanked him for stopping.  
  
With a jolt, Angel realized that she was hitting on him. From the way that Kari rolled her eyes and walked to the Jeep, this was not an uncommon occurrence. Angel received another shock when Tobin sauntered over, pulled a pen out of her pocket, and proceeded to write her phone number on his hand. Deciding that he needed no more surprises tonight, Angel fled to his apartment.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
"Tobin, that guy was probably in college!"  
  
"Thus the fun."  
  
"Do you even realize what you did?"  
  
"Hmm. Wonderfully cute college guy. Flirted. Gave him my number. I think I'm pretty clear on what I did."  
  
"You wrote your number on his *HAND*."  
  
"I suppose I could've written it on his shirt-"  
  
"*TOBIN*!"  
  
"Whaaat?"  
  
"Let me once again state my problem. You spent all of five minutes in his company, and you wrote your phone number on his *HAND*. Do you realize the impression that you gave him?"  
  
"That I'm a complete slut?"  
  
"Yes, that's the one."  
  
"Geez, calm down. If it makes you feel any better, I highly doubt that he'll be calling me."  
  
"And what makes you so sure?"  
  
"For one thing, I gave him the number to a pizza parlor."  
  
"......"  
  
"Whoa, nice gesture, Kari!"  
  
"Quit it. So you did all of that just to pull a prank?"  
  
"Of course not. I flirted with him because he had a cute butt."  
  
"*TOBIN!*"  
  
"Oh, come on, admit it, he had a cute butt."  
  
"Not as cute as Hunter's."  
  
"Since when have you been checking out Hunter's butt?"  
  
"What's so wrong with that?"  
  
"For one thing, I don't approve of that sort of thing. Don't make that face. Really, I just don't think that Hunter is really the kind of guy you should be thinking of in a boyfriendly way."  
  
"Because he probably doesn't even know I exist. And even if he does, there are lots of girls who are way prettier than me who would love to go out with him."   
  
"Hey! You are just as pretty as any of those mindless twerps who fawn over him and drool into his lunch. A guy would have to be a complete idiot not to want to go out with you. Unfortunately, guys are idiots."  
  
"Bit of a Catch 22, huh?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Here's my house. Oh, good, the lights are out. My parents must've gone to sleep."  
  
"There's always an upside to everything. I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"   
  
"Sure. Goodnight, Tobin."  
  
"Goodnight, Kari."  
  
***********   
  
And in the immortal words of my beloved beta-reader, Jai: "Eeeeew, scary baby!"  



	15. Yea, We Wept When We Remembered Zion

THE NEXT MORNING, *FINALLY* (hey, it only took me *TWO YEARS*!)   
  
There is one long moment before the first hint of the sun appears over the horizon that scholars of old believed was the moment that fairies and spirits had their last purchase on this reality before having to retreat to their own land.   
  
Scholars of today would charitably call that complete bullshit. However, there is often a certain amount of truth in the tales of old wives. That one moment has been called the darkest part of night, because too often it is the final moment of some demon hunter that has been trying to hold out to dawn - and has not made it. For some, it is the moment where they wait for their dark god to plunge the world into night everlasting. This is the time when the darkest magics are cast - not midnight. It's the moment where dogs growl and cats look up with their gleaming eyes. The moment when small children call out in fear, and when adults wake up with the strange whisper of approaching danger.   
  
In the dark bedroom where a man lay sleeping, a delicate radiance appeared. For long seconds, it was nothing more than an airy diffusion of light, but then it gathered to form a ghostly figure.   
  
Golden hair drifted on a wraith wind to frame a delicate face which housed two large green eyes. Silent steps brought the figure next to the bed, and in a liquid motion the figure knelt. With infinite care, a hand stretched out to gently touch the man's sleeping face.   
  
Phantom fingertips traced his cheek in a lover's caress. They slid down to the lips whose touch they remembered well, then over the strong nose, then whispered over the brow that was creased with sorrow and worry. Further up, they buried themselves in his soft hair - still thick, but brushed with silver at the temples.   
  
The man stirred in his sleep, though whether wakened by either the hour or the touch was uncertain. Turning towards the figure, he mumbled a name in a voice that was rough with sleep. The phantom hand stilled, then slowly withdrew. The brilliant green eyes trembled with pain, and the soft mouth traced a word.   
  
"Xander...."   
  
The figure might have wept, but tears are a comfort that the dead are denied.   
  
The long moment ended, and as the light began to trickle slowly over the horizon in herald of a new day, the shade of Buffy Summers faded from sight.   
  
*****   
  
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP   
  
Rolling over, Kari reached out and slammed her hand down on the 'snooze' button. She groaned softly, then emerged slowly from her comfortable nest of blankets and pillows. Stumbling across her room, she picked up her phone and hit the speed-dial button. As she listened to it ring, she began looking through her closet. While Thursday was usually the day that she went to school in torn jeans and a cheerfully offensive tee-shirt, she felt the desire to dress up today.   
  
Just as she was considering the merits of a purple skirt, there was a soft click as the phone was finally picked up.   
  
"Wzzaaa?" came the sleepy voice on the other end. Tobin had never been a morning person.   
  
"Listen, can I come over and shower?" Kari asked.   
  
"Sure thing. I'll put out some coffee to distract my brothers, but you'd better hurry."   
  
"I'll be over in half a tic." Kari said. Hanging up the phone, she quickly threw her clothing choices in a duffel bag, pulled some shorts on under the long tee-shirt that served as her nightshirt, shoved her feet in a pair of tennis shoes, and proceeded to climb out her window. Shimmying down the drain pipe with her duffel bag was an art that she had perfected over the last year and a half, when her parents had started argueing a lot.   
  
Jumping to the ground, Kari made the fifteen-minute jog to Tobin's house, which was already stirring to life. Knocking on the door, Kari listened with interest to the yelling echoing out one of the upstairs windows.   
  
"DAMN IT, TOBIN, GET OUT OF THE SHOWER!!"   
  
"I NEED TO USE THE BATHROOM!!!"   
  
"YOU'VE BEEN IN THERE FOR TWENTY MINUTES!!"   
  
"GET OUT, TOBIN!!"   
  
Oh, yes. Tobin's brothers were definitely home. For a moment, Kari couldn't help but pity their neighbors. The door suddenly swung open, and Tobin's mother cheerfully waved Kari in with one hand, while the other hand held a cel-phone firmly to her ear. Stepping into the hallway, Kari found herself hugging the wall. The entire entryway was filled with suitcases, duffel bags, and various other travel paraphanalia.   
  
Clapping one hand over the mouthpiece of the celphone, Mrs. Sans gave Kari a smile. "Tobin is in the shower right now, dear. Would you like some breakfast? Theo just started the eggs."   
  
Quickly Kari shook her head. With six children, Mr. and Mrs. Sans thought little of adding one more place to the table, and Kari had gotten many experiences of a Sans family breakfast. It gave the word 'chaos' a whole new meaning, since eight people were scrambling to eat and hurry out, while at the same time talking non-stop. Kari's preferred method of eating breakfast here was to wait until at least four members of the family had left, *then* find something to eat.   
  
Walking past Mrs. Sans, Kari nearly ran right into Tobin's dad. Mr. Sans gave her a quick grin, and told her, "Kari, if you see any of the boys tell them to stop yelling at their sister."   
  
Running quickly up the stairs, Kari avoided the various objects that littered the steps. Reaching the top, she found herself in the middle of the Sans boys.   
  
Like Tobin, all of the brothers had dark skin and hair, along with almost feverishly bright eyes. Unlike Tobin, all were tall, with the shortest being TJ, who was a meagere 6'2. At the moment, all five were pounding on the bathroom door.   
  
"Um, guys?" Kari asked carefully. A second later, she found herself being hugged by all five. In the years that she and Tobin had been friends, she had found herself accepted into the weird fold that was the Sans family.   
  
"Kari, is that you?" Tobin yelled from inside the bathroom. When Kari called an affirmative, the Sans brothers remembered that they were trying to get into said bathroom, and began hammering on the door again.   
  
"I'm coming out, and I'm indecent!" At those words, Tobin's brother immediately fled to their rooms. Kari rolled her eyes. They went through this whole scene everytime one or more of the guys came home, and they ended up running at Tobin's threat of indecent exposure. Despite the fact that she had never followed through on her threat, her brothers lived in mortal dread of a day that she might actually be serious.   
  
The door flipped open, and Tobin walked out - fully dressed and rubbing a towel briskly over her damp hair. "All yours," she said with a slight yawn. "The guys should be cleared out by seven-thirty at the latest, so I'll just save you some bacon."   
  
"Where are they going?" Kari asked, shifting her duffel bag to a more comfortable position.   
  
"Bar."   
  
"At *seven-thirty*?" she asked, her jaw dropping. Even after years of association, the Sans' still managed to surprise her.   
  
Tobin gave an careless shrug. "Hey, Tom just got divorced. I assume they plan to drown their sorrows and then crank-call his ex-wife once they're completely trashed." Seeing Kari's still-astonished expression, Tobin just threw her hands up in the timeless 'hey, they're guys' gesture and trotted downstairs to secure breakfast.   
  
With a shrug of her own, Kari entered the bathroom just as the aforementioned guys started venturing out of their rooms. Time for a nice shower.   
  
*****   
  
Hunter woke up feeling battered, bruised, and like his head had a whole brass quartet playing inside it. All in all, he was uncomfortably reminded of the time he and Trevor had cajoled Jesse into helping them make up some fake IDs, and going down to one of the bars in Sunnydale University Collegetown to see if they could get someone to sell them beer. Someone had been willing, and the three boys had woken up the next morning seriously regretting it.   
  
Rolling over, the memory of last night's encounter with the muggers rushed back. With a sigh and a groan, Hunter got slowly to his feet. Staggering over to his dresser, he paused mid-way through pulling a random tee-shirt out. Pausing, he chewed his lower lip for a moment in thought. The dance was two days away....it was now or never.   
  
Rooting through his dresser, he managed to find a blue tee-shirt and a pair of jeans that were clean and untorn. After an extensive search of his closet, he extracted a dark blue overshirt. One quick visit to the bathroom later, he returned and dressed quickly. He then spent ten minutes carefully observing his reflection in the mirror, making sure that he looked good, but casual. Running a comb through his dark brown hair, he winced when he brushed against a large bandage. Asking a girl out when he looked like a mummy wasn't something he was particularly up for, so he carefully peeled off the bandages. Most of the bruises and cuts had faded enough so that they weren't readily apparent. For a moment Hunter paused, staring at the cuts in the mirror. Last night, when he was getting ready for bed, he could've sworn that he was in much worse shape. The sound of a honking horn and his father's voice yelling for him to hurry up quickly distracted him from the matter, though, and Hunter just had enough time to grab his bag before racing down the stairs.   
  
In the kitchen, he passed by his dad, who was sitting at the table drinking his morning coffee while fixing the cuffs on his collared button-down shirt.   
  
"Grab something to eat before you go!" Xander called to his son, just as Hunter was halfway out the door. Grabbing a bagel, he tossed it to the lean youth.   
  
"Big day, dad?" Hunter asked as he fielded the bagel, gesturing with his free hand at the tie that Xander was carefully adjusting. Usually Xander forwent the tie, prefering to keep a slightly casual working environment.   
  
"Meeting with a new client." Xander responded, "I won't be home until late. *YOU*, though," he said, pinning Hunter with a parental glare just as he tried to race out the door again, "are to be home right after school. No going out with your friends." Raising a hand to forstall Hunter's protests, he continued. "I told the Senecas and Trevor's mother about your accident last night, and I'm sure that they'll be putting the same restrictions on them. I want you to stay inside for a few nights."   
  
"But-" Hunter started.   
  
"That's final, Hunter. Now have a good day." Xander glanced at his watch, and quickly rose to leave before he was late. When he looked back at the door, Hunter had already exited, running across the lawn to where Trevor was waiting impatiently in his car.   
  
Xander gave a deep sigh, and turned his gaze heavenword. "For once," he pleaded quietly, "just once, please try and make him listen to me."   
  
Grabbing his briefcase, Xander hurried to get ready for his own workday, which didn't have the consideration to cease to exist because of problems with sons, prophesies, or old enemies.   
  
*****   
  
Kari walked into the emptied kitchen twenty minutes later, feeling much better after her shower. Miraculously, Tobin was the only one present, and pushed a plate of toast over to Kari with a grin. Then, the small girl's dark eyes narrowed slightly as she observed her friend. Swallowing a mouthful of toast, Kari sat down and tried to look casual, even while Tobin was trying to stare holes into her brain. A long silence fell, as Tobin tried to mentally force Kari into admiting what she was up to, and Kari tried to concentrate on her breakfast.   
  
Tobin broke the silence first. "You look very nice today." she said in a voice that was almost accusatory.   
  
"Thanks." Kari responded.   
  
"The skirt looks great."   
  
"Thanks." It was true. The long skirt came right down to her ankles, but a small slit made it comfortable for walking in.   
  
"Same with the halter top."   
  
"I try." The halter top matched the skirt, though Kari usually wore it with jeans.   
  
"I like what you did with your hair."   
  
"Well, I thought I'd do something different with it today." She had combed her long brown hair out loose so that it fell down her back in a smooth wave.   
  
"Purple is really your color."   
  
"Thanks." This was true. The skirt and top were both a deep wine purple that Julia had once remarked was a shade that Kari looked best in.   
  
Another long moment passed.   
  
"You never wear purple."   
  
"Not willingly."   
  
"You hate it when your hair is loose because it gets caught everywhere."   
  
"Royal pain in the ass."   
  
"You haven't worn a skirt to school in weeks."   
  
"And then only because all my pants were dirty."   
  
"I'm not even going to comment on the top."   
  
"That's probably for the best."   
  
The two regarded each other for another long moment.   
  
"You're really going to stand out."   
  
"I know."   
  
"I'll change and we'll go."   
  
"That'd be great."   
  
Ten minutes later, Tobin returned downstairs, having exchanged her torn jeans and 'New World Order' tee-shirt for a pretty black sundress with a pale-yellow flower print.   
  
"You owe me."   
  
"Bigtime."   
  
"Can I cash it in now?"   
  
"For what?"   
  
"Exert your womanly wiles on anyone except Hunter Summers-Harris."   
  
"I'll consider it."   
  
"Liar."   
  
"No, I did consider it. For 1/24th of a second, really."   
  
"As long as you made the effort then."   
  
"We'd better go now. How is the Jeep working?"   
  
"Tom gave it a jump from his car before the whole crew left, so we should be all set. It's going to be a pain getting in and out of in skirts, though."   
  
"I know."   
  
"You owe me."   
  
"You already cashed it in."   
  
"There were two seperate debts. One was for actually wearing the dress, the second was for appearing in public in it."   
  
"Okay, I'll give you that one."   
  
"Fine. Let's go."   
  
*****   
  
As Trevor stepped on the excelerator - his driving abilities might have been better suited to the Indy 500 than to the streets of Sunnydale - Hunter took a huge bite out of his bagel. Steering with one hand, Trevor used the other to take a long drink out of his Dunkin' Donuts coffee cup. With a quick twist of the wheels, the car screetched into the Senecas' driveway. Honking the horn, Trevor and Hunter sat back and respectively ate or sipped as they waited for Jesse. A few minutes went by, and they saw Mr. Seneca casually walk out the front door to where his own car was parked, holding his own mug of morning coffee in one hand while carting his briefcase along with the other.   
  
In sharp contrast, Jesse came tearing out the front door right after his father, hair still wet from the shower, a breakfast bar clenched between his teeth, both shoes untied, and trying to zip his backpack closed as he ran.   
  
Hunter gave a little mental groan. As fond as he was of his childhood friend, he had to admit privately that Jesse was a bit of a spaz. Half the fights that he and Trevor had gotten into over the years had been because someone was picking on Jesse.   
  
"Geez, Hunter," Jesse said as he hopped into the backseat and Trevor pulled the car into an extremely speedy reverse. "Did you really get mugged last night? Because my parents read me the riot act this morning about staying out late, and now I'm grounded indefinitely."   
  
Hunter winced. Jesse's parents were notoriously overprotective, and this was just the kind of thing that would set them off. He remembered two years ago when there had been a few unexplained dissapearences Jesse's parents had refused to let him go anywhere where adults or nuns weren't present.   
  
"Yeah, I did. But it wasn't that bad. I mean, you can barely see the bruises today." Hunter made a helpless expression. "My dad did the same with me. What about you, Trev? Did your mom ground you?"   
  
"I was out the door before she could catch me." Trevor siad, his face taking on a closed expression that his friends knew not to argue with. "My dad's home for a few days - do you mind if I crash at your house for a while, Hunter?"   
  
"Nah, no problem." Hunter said. He knew that Trevor and his father didn't get along, and he knew better than to try and push any further explanation out of his friend. "I just hope that my dad lets up before the dance."   
  
Trevor's face cleared up at the change of topic. "Why," he asked with a grin. "Are you finally going to ask someone?"   
  
"Would that be why you look so swanky today?" Jesse teased from the backseat. Hunter felt his cheeks start to redden as the other two boys hooted with laughter.   
  
"Well, excuse me if I take a certain pride in my appearence." he said huffily.   
  
"Oooh," Trevor leered, "sounds like you've got it bad for some girl. So, tell. Who is this mystery maiden?"   
  
"Do we know her?" Jesse asked. Feeling their eyes on him, Hunter shifted slightly in his seat.   
  
"Well..." he hedged. "How 'bout those Knicks?" he asked, hoping that they would be diverted. From the glares directed at him, though, he realized that he wasn't going to get out of this one. Taking a deep breath, he faced the firing squad and confessed.   
  
"It's Kari Ambrose."   
  
"WHAT??" yelled his two friends, and Hunter knew that if he had had a camera at this moment, he could've captured a perfect study of the emotion known as utter shock.   
  
"You're kidding, right Hunter? Right?"   
  
"Trevor, look out for that car!" Jesse called to Trevor, who was too busy trying to talk 'sense' into Hunter to bother with such trivialties as watching the road.   
  
*swerve* *screech* There was a great deal of yelling and gesturing as Trevor cut off another car.   
  
"Guys, I think I'm going to throw up," Jesse moaned from the backseat.   
  
"Not now, Jesse," Trevor responded sharply. "I'm dealing with a pod person who has taken over the body of Hunter."   
  
"Oh, come on-" He said, rolling his eyes.   
  
"Back, pod-Hunter!" The blonde boy beside him yelled.   
  
"Now you're just being a pain. What problem do you have with Kari?"   
  
"Plenty." Trevor said shortly.   
  
"Her, personally, or her friends?" Hunter knew his best friend, and he knew that Trevor was acutely aware of their social standing in both the general school populace and the various sports teams they were members of.   
  
"Never really met her, so I'm just assuming that she has serious mental psychosis, but mostly her friends, yes."   
  
"What a load of-"   
  
"Hear me out, Hunter. She hangs out with Julia Meah, that red-haired girl-"   
  
"Mary." Jesse chimed in. Hunter looked up in surprise - usually their friend tended to steer clear of any conversations concerning social status. Jesse was acutely aware of the fact that he himself would be limited to the 'nerd' class if it weren't for Trevor.   
  
"Thanks, Jesse, you are the Encyclopedia Nerdica." Trevor responded with a slight sneer. "So Julia Meah, red-haired Mary, and Tobin Sans. Julia is president of the Drama Club, and dates Richie the swim jock. Mary belongs to all the same classes and clubs as Jesse does. And as for the Sans harpy....well, need I say more? I'm not arguing that Kari is easy on the eyes, but don't drag your rep down that way by dating her. I'm just looking out for you, buddy. Listen, why don't you Nora? She's pretty, popular, and remarkably loose about her morals." From the expression on his face, Hunter knew that Trevor expected him to give in and agree, like he always had before. He knew that Trevor really was looking out for him, and usually he'd probably agree with him, but this time was different. As they pulled into the Sunnydale High parking lot, he turned to stare directly into Trevor's dark green eyes with his own piercingly jade gaze.   
  
"With all due respect, Trev," Hunter said in a sweetly reasonable tone, but with a deadly serious edge, purposefully using Trevor's childhood nickname. "I think this time I can find a date of my own without resorting to your closet of cast-offs. And if I want to date Kari, I will. Got a problem with that? Too bad."   
  
Not wanting to get involved in a fight like this, Jesse piled out of the car and hurried into the building, leaving the other two locked in a battle of wills. The contest dragged on for long minutes, until finally Trevor broke first and leaned back, defeated.   
  
"You're right, Hunt," he said softly, "I can't stop you. But if this girl means this much to you even before you go on a single date, just think how easily she can hurt you. She's special, and you and I don't date the special ones."   
  
Hunter nodded in understanding, and the tension evaporated. For the past three years of high school, he and Trevor had gone out with the popular girls, the ones who were looking for nothing more than a guy to one-up their backstabbing clique members. It was easier that way. Everyone knew the rules, and feelings had nothing to do with anything.   
  
"Maybe it's time for a change." he murmered. Looking up, he saw Trevor give a brief, noncommital shrug, and the moment passed.   
  
"Yeah, well," Trevor scoffed, "don't come crying to me when you don't get smootchies without commitment. After a week, you'll be begging for me to set you up with Nora." Seeing Hunter's eyes narrow again, Trevor grinned and unbuckled his safety belt, preparing to get out. "Loosen up! You'll get the girl, you'll go out, and in two weeks everything will be back to normal. Now all we have to do is track down this Kari Ambrose. I'll distract her harpy friends so that you can swoop in and make your move." Hunter laughed at the image, and also got out. Together, they sauntered towards the school. After a long pause, Trevor spoke.   
  
"I'm going to have to deal with Tobin."   
  
"I know."   
  
"I really hate that girl."   
  
"I know."   
  
"You owe me."   
  
"Bigtime."   
  
"Just so we understand."   
  
"Completely."   
  
~*~*~*~*~   
  



	16. There Stood An Angel With A Sword Of Fir...

A Letter from Robyn the Snowshoe Hare:  
  
I would now like to apologize to everyone who has been reading and enjoying The Slayer's Hunter.   
  
I began writing this story in 1998, right after the premiere of "Passion". It was the first time that I had ever tried to write a piece of fanfiction, and I received wonderful support for my first efforts from the Slayer's Fanfic Archive Posting Board community. One of the biggest fans of the early chapters was a sweet guy named Stone Cold. He gave me ideas for both future sections and for dialogue, which was - and still is - an area that I struggled in. So I asked him to be my co-author, and he accepted. As I slowly continued to write sections, other people helped, notably among them John the Flatulent Skunk and Gaius Petronius. Later came other Slayer's Hunter enthusiasts like Jai L. and Andra, not to mention lots of positive e-mail feedback (Mash and MMT, I'm looking at you here) and three awards.   
  
However, in recent times it has been very hard for me to continue writing this story. A plotline that seemed so vibrant and important back in 1998 now just fails to excite me. Writing new chapters is something I do only when I can't put it off any longer. I created too large a canvas for myself when I set up the beginnings of the story, not to mention the fact that I used plot devices that have been truly done to death at this point. Even the few sections and ideas that I do enjoy are lost underneath the dregs of the parts that I hate.   
  
If I ever do choose to finish The Slayer's Hunter, I'd first have to go back and completely rewrite the beginning - striking out quite a few characters in the process, not to mention the whole 'prophesy' bit.   
  
For those of you who want some closure, and who doubt - rightly - that I will ever do such a rewrite, the following list is for you. It gives endings to the characters.   
  
I would also like to extend my deepest thanks to Anya and Biohaz, who run the most extensive and amazing Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and now Angel: The Series) fanfiction site on the web. It was through their website that I first began writing. I'd also like to thank Karen from the SFA, who for years was the one who was stuck archiving my fanfiction. Other wonderful archivists I'd like to thank are Zak, Andra, Charity aka Taygeta, Ducks.   
  
And finally, I'd like to thank Andra and Jai, who were helpful in so many ways - not in the least was supporting me in this decision.   
  
Thank you,   
  
Robyn the Snowshoe Hare   
  
March 18, 2000   
  
~~~~~  
The Ending  
~~~~~   
  
Julia and Mary were vamped. Mary became a random lackey, and was staked by Hunter, but Julia wreaked utter havoc and destruction until she was finally killed by her best friend, Tobin.   
  
Before she died, Julia killed Principal Snyder, thus ending his reign of terror over Sunnydale High.   
  
Hunter ignored the fact that he was grounded, and snuck out with Trevor to meet Kari and Tobin at the Bronze that night.   
  
At the Bronze, Hunter and Kari really hit it off and had a great time. Unfortunately, the forces of darkness chose to attack.   
  
Before the forces of darkness attacked, Tobin had thrown her drink into Trevor's face. He purposely spilled his on her shirt, leaving a rather nasty stain. There was also an impressive display of verbal warfare.   
  
Oz and Willow Seneca, along with their two sons Jesse and Asher, survived the story. None of them did very much, though, except for Jesse, who was nearly sacrificed. Oz and Asher actually spent the whole finale werewolfed and locked in the library book-cage.   
  
Cordelia Chase-Mannix also did very little in the fight against the evil. She did, however, leave her abusive husband with a little spiritual boost from the ghost of Buffy Summers-Harris. She, her twin daughters, and Trevor lived at the Harris residence until the divorce came through and a restraining order was placed on Mark Mannix.   
  
Mark Mannix moved to Siberia after a late-night visit from a mysterious and very threatening figure in black made an offer he couldn't refuse. Deciding that he liked keeping his spleen inside his body more than harassing his ex-wife, he left town quietly.   
  
Hunter found out about his vampire heritage after he nearly bit Kari. This was understandably a rather large shock to him, though not even close to the shock he received on learning that Angel was his biological father. He didn't take the news very well. (on an epic scale)   
  
On the suggestion of Sean Mona, Spike dispatched his minions and managed to capture everyone except for Hunter, Xander, Angel, and Giles. During the ensuing melee, though, Giles was injured and had to be hospitalized. This left our three main lads to ride to the rescue and not kill each other.   
  
Not really thinking straight, they walked right into a trap. Spike got enough of each boy's blood to bring back Drusilla.   
  
At the crucial moment, when Spike was about to kill Hunter, Buffy crossed over to the physical plane and stopped him. In doing so, she defied Heaven's mandate.   
  
Everyone was pretty shocked by her appearance, and she had the upper hand long enough to restore Drusilla's soul to the newly-restored vampiress. (she was able to do this because the dead have some pretty swanky powers, and she figured that since she had defied one Heavenly mandate, she might as well defy them all.)   
  
(for everyone who was wondering, the two dark-haired women who stand with Buffy in the whole heaven scene are Drusilla and Jenny Calendar)   
  
Drusilla-with-a-soul then killed Spike. (how's *that* for irony?)   
  
Sean Mona killed himself, unable to deal with his actions. Apart from having a few visions and a few drinks, he really did very little.   
  
Before fading away, Buffy was able to embrace Xander and Hunter and tell them how much she loved them.   
  
Angel was rather depressed after that truly inspired diss that Buffy's soul gave him, and started to turn away, determined to kill himself. He was stopped by Xander, who, living up to his previous words of 'when I hold my wife in my arms and hear her say that she loves me', forgave the vampire. (hey, yet more irony!)   
  
Ensouled-Drusilla and Angel headed off to parts unknown to brood together in a purely platonic way.   
  
Giles got out of hospital, with doctor's orders to try and avoid any more concussions. (yeah, right)   
  
Hunter asked Kari to the Saturday dance (since everything was resolved on Friday night), and she accepted. Sadly, the dance was interrupted by a demonic rampage hosted by a pair of demons named Sam and Bill. But that's another story.   
  
Cordelia and Xander decided to give things between them another shot, and they ended up getting married. Hunter and Trevor had the horror of becoming step-brothers.   
  
After Tobin's parents get back, her brothers all scattered off again - being the useless plot devices that they were - leaving her to take morning showers in peace.   
  
Kari's parents divorced, and she stayed in Sunnydale with her mom. Tensions at her house decreased to the point where she started eating breakfast in her own kitchen again.   
  
Buffy returned to Heaven, where The Powers That Be decided that since she defied the mandate of Heaven out of compassion and love, they really can't hold that against her. Finally at peace, she contentedly moved on Paradise.   
  
While in the hospital, Giles ran into an old friend by the name of Olivia. A year later, the eternal bachelor finally got married. (because everyone complains that I never let Giles be happy. So *hah*)   
  
Janine Sebastian (the currant Slayer) and her long-suffering Watcher Adrian Castel showed up in Sunnydale and said, "So, anything happen while we were gone?"   
  
In the final proof that the Hellmouth is evil, Tobin and Trevor tried going out on a date. It failed utterly.   
  



End file.
